Our Story
by grednforgesgirl
Summary: The shadow of evil covers the world once again, and it falls to us to save the peace our parents fought and died for. Now is the time for our story. The story of how two people who hated each other fell in love, and saved the world in doing so.
1. So it Begins

**Our Story**

Chapter One

So it Begins

_"You can't help who you love, you're not supposed to."  
>~Save the Last Dance<em>

* * *

><p>BEFORE I EVEN STARTED at Hogwarts I had an arch-nemesis. His name was Scorpius Malfoy. My father had told me to make sure to beat him in every test. The reason, I supposed, for our animosity was the fact that my father, mother, and uncle had been worst enemies with <em>his<em> father since the day _they_started Hogwarts. It had morphed into a much deeper hatred then that of even the former generation's. I didn't just hate him. I loathed him.

I had, in fact, beaten him at every test. I had been top in every class, Scorpius coming in at a roaring second. I was even better at him in Quidditch. I was the best Keeper in Hogwarts. Thank Merlin I had never inherited my mother's dislike for anything that had to do with a broomstick. I loved Quidditch.

My best friend and cousin, Albus Potter, was also on the Quidditch team. His reputation as a Seeker was outmatched only by my Uncle Harry. Albus had been my best friend since before I could remember. We even have the same birthday. Ever since I had met Scorpius Malfoy, Albus, and his brother James, had always defended me from him. Not that I needed it. I am perfectly capable of defending myself.

My name is Rose Weasley. And this is the story of how I fell in love with my arch-nemesis.

* * *

><p>THE FIRST TIME I ever met Rose Weasley was on the Hogwarts Express. I hated her from the beginning. I hated how smart she was, how good she was at Quidditch, how well-liked and how beautiful she was. I was not like that. I was not popular. I was ignored, disliked, hated. Even among my own house; especially among <em>her<em>house.

I suppose the reason for that is because of my father. My father—God bless his soul—was a coward. Or at least he was in the eyes of his former friends. In the eyes of his former enemies, he was something to be hated or worse—pitied. My father, like so many others in his house his age, had been tempted by the Dark Lord. My father was a Death Eater. But he had fallen out of standing when had failed in his first mission as well as when _his_father fell out of standing with the Dark Lord. I had never thought about my father as a coward. I loved my father. I found his story about how he had gone in a bit too far and had a change of heart a bit of a heroic tale, even if it had wrecked my social life for all of eternity.

Even though most of my house disliked me, I had a few friends. Not close friends, I had never really felt close to anyone. Anyone except her. I had always felt closer to _her_than any of my friends, even when she was my arch-enemy, even when I hated her. I didn't understand what that meant when it first began. I probably still don't. My feelings for her—regardless of what feelings they had been—were defiantly strong. That was the one constant with her. With my life.

Here I am, going on and on about her. It's almost borderline obsession. Maybe it is obsession. An obsession of hate and love, anyway you put it, I'm crazy about her.

My name is Scorpius Malfoy. And this is the story of how I fell head over heels in love with my arch-enemy, and saved the world because of it.

* * *

><p>IT ALL BEGAN ON the Hogwarts Express. It took me and Albus awhile to find a compartment. I remember it was so crowded on the train. I was bumping into who knows how many people. I can't recall anyone I bumped into—anyone except him. We bumped into each other so hard I nearly fell over. Albus had barely caught me. I gave the tall blonde haired boy the death glare as Albus sat me right again. The boy looked at me like I was dirt on his shoes.<p>

"Watch where you're going!" the boy snarled at me.

"You bumped into me!" I had said indignantly. I remember I was still giving him the death glare. It seemed to always be the expression on my face whenever we had direct contact.

"Wait—I know who you are. My father told me all about the Weasleys and the Potters," he glanced at Albus, who was the spitting image of his father. However, the expression on mine and Albus' face were identical. "You're the Weasley girl. And you—" he sneered at Albus. "You're Harry Potter's son."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Albus had said. The anger in his eyes was apparent. He had not understood what that meant. See, Albus didn't know his father's legacy. I didn't know what my parents had done either, at the time.

"You mean you don't know?" Malfoy had scoffed. "Well, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough."

"Oh yeah?" I had spat at him, "And what about _you_? _My_ father told me who _you_are. You're Scorpius Malfoy."

I was bluffing. I really didn't know anything more about him or his father other than their names. And that I was supposed to beat him at every test.

Anyway, you could tell from his expression that this had struck some sort of nerve with him. But I was spared from his retaliation by my first encounter with a Hogwarts prefect.

"What's going on here?" the Prefect had said. I turned. "Go on, go to your compartments!"

Scorpius Malfoy gave me a loathing look before turning on his heel and all but storming off.

I turned to the prefect. "Sorry," I had muttered before dragging Albus with me in the opposite direction.

We ran into James on our search for a compartment. He grinned when he saw us.

"How's Slytherin's newest member?" he grinned at us. James had been teasing Albus all morning.

"I won't be in Slytherin! I need to talk to you about something," the serious look on Al's face convinced James to stop teasing him.

"What about, Al?"

"Dad,"

I had never seen James's eyebrows go so high. "What's wrong with him?"

"Com'n," we moved into an empty compartment. Albus shut the door behind us and I put my stuff in the basket up top.

"So what's up with dad?" James asked as soon as we got settled.

"Something Malfoy said," Albus answered.

"What did he say?"

"He recognized I was Harry Potter's son, and said I didn't know what that meant. He said I'd find out soon enough. What was he talking about?"

James sat in stony-faced silence. He was not looking at me or Albus, but observing his trainers.

"And then there's everyone staring at him wherever we go."

"Al . . . dad didn't tell any of us what he did. But . . . I noticed the same things you did. So I . . . I asked Uncle Ron once. He seemed the most likely to tell me, and. . . ."

"And?" I was just as curious as Albus. I, too, had noticed the same thing. People stared at our parents. People we don't even know shaking their hands. But whenever I was with Uncle Harry, it was the most prominent. I remember one time a wizard bowing to him in a shop. Another time a witch I didn't know came up and hugged him. None of us knew why people did this.

"I—I'm not the right person to tell you." James looked very uncomfortable as he said this.

"James!" Albus was looking at him incredulously.

"Oh, alright, Al . . . " James took a great breath of air. "Al, dad is famous."

"_What_?"

"I can't believe you never even ran across a chocolate frog card."

"_Dad is on a chocolate frog card_?"

James grinned and pulled something out of his pocket. A chocolate frog card. Albus and I leaned in to look.

There was a picture of Uncle Harry, winking up at us.

_Harry James Potter_  
><em>Current Head of Auror Office<em>  
><em>Harry Potter is predominantly famous for his defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort in 1998. He is the only known survivor of the killing curse, having successfully survived it two times, earning him the title "The Boy Who Lived." He has been thought by many as "The Chosen One," given that it was thought that he would be the only one to defeat the Dark Lord. Since his defeat of the Dark Lord, he, and his partners Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, have revolutionized the Ministry of Magic and the wizarding world. Harry Potter enjoys Quidditch and spending time with his wife, Ginny, and their three children.<em>

"_Wow_," both Albus and I said together.

"See?" James said, "I told you dad was famous."

* * *

><p>I REMEMBER THAT AFTER that first encounter with her I was angry. No, scratch that. I wasn't just angry. I was <em>furious<em>. And I was furious that I was furious. Why is it that a girl I barely knew could get such a rise out of me? I was pissed. Livid. I swore to myself I'd make her life a living hell. And I swore I'd do anything to make it happen.

That, right there, was probably what got me put in Slytherin. See, when the Sorting Hat was placed on my head, that was the primary thing on my mind. The Sorting Hat took quite a while with me. I remember everything it said to me perfectly.

_Ah. . .a Malfoy. Hmmm. Ambitious, very ambitious. Plenty of intelligence . . . but there is also a certain bit of loyalty about you, very protective. Hmmm and there's the courage. But where to put you? Hmmm . . ._

I knew my parents would kill me if I wasn't in Slytherin. I knew I would be a disappointment. What if it said Hufflepuff? Good lord I'd be a laughing stock.

_. . . A thirst to prove yourself, interesting, very interesting. . . . _

But I think it was mainly the fact that I was so ambitious that caught its' attention. Ambitious to ruin Rose Weasley's life.

_Hmm, yes, the ambition is almost overwhelming. Yes, I think we better go with . . ._

"SLYTHERIN!"

I breathed a sigh of relief and went to sit at the Slytherin table. Years later I would regret being in Slytherin. If I hadn't been so angry with her, if it hadn't been for _her_, then the Sorting Hat might have chosen a bit more carefully. I might have at least managed to slip into Ravenclaw.

But that was how it was. I was in Slytherin, the house that had turned out more dark wizards than any other. I sincerely hoped I wouldn't become one of them or involved with them. I managed not to, I don't know how, but I did.

She turned out a Gryffindor. Big surprise there: all of the Weasleys were in Gryffindor. So did the Potter that hung around with her.

The Slytherins and Gryffindors rarely had any classes together. The first opportunity I had to torment her was in Potions, nearly a full week after I first arrived. I'm ashamed to say it, but I had barely thought of anything but her since I first arrived. I only barely acquainted myself with my roommates. I kept to myself. But I did get quite a few glares from the older students. The name "Malfoy" didn't quite garner as much respect as it had in the past. A big family of failures, that's what most people thought of us. I didn't care quite as much as I should have though. No, she kept me from caring about most anything.

That first potions lesson with her unnerved me. This girl was unlike anyone I had ever met before. It wasn't so much the potion lesson as it was what happened in the hall _before_the potion lesson.

I was alone. She was surrounded by friends. She laughed, and it made me angry that she was happy. It made me angry that she got to enjoy herself and everything was already given to her. All because of her name.

I decided to go after her cousin first.

"Oi! Potter!" I shouted. Everyone stopped talking and was looking at me. "Found out about dear old daddy yet?" Rose narrowed her eyes, like she knew what I was doing.

"As I matter of fact, I did, Malfoy," he spat angrily.

"How's it feel it be the son of scarhead? Is the fame going to get to your head, Potter? Where's the reporters? Can I get an autograph?"

"Don't you talk about my family like that!" she was glaring at him. She was protecting her family. Her hair seemed to crackle with electricity.

"Oh yeah? How 'bout you then, let's talk about you, huh?" My heart was beating out of my chest. The room was entirely quiet. Nobody spoke. For me, there was no one else in the room. "I hope you're keeping a journal, so they can know about the famous Rose Weasley and her sidekick Albus Potter. A Potter, a sidekick! That's _your_parents job, I thought." I laughed, so did about half of the Slytherins. It was heartening to hear those laughs. It told me I wasn't making a complete fool out of myself. But my eyes were on her. She seemed to be growing taller, fiercer, angrier. At that moment, there was no one in the world I hated more than Rose Weasley. I wanted to hurt her. "You're just some stupid little bookworm. A blood traitor! How's your mudblood mum doing?"

She looked livid. Her eyes flashed. The entire room was in shocked silence at what he had said.

"What about your _Death Eater_dad, how's he?" Her lip curled upwards. Their noses were an inch away from each other. "Going to join up in the next Pure-Blood revolution, then? Going to become the next Voldemort?" She laughed like a manic. I didn't notice that the Griffindors were cheering her on. I didn't notice that my fellow Slytherins were laughing at me.

"Your dad is nothing but a _coward_!" she shouted.

I was spared from having to think up a comeback (I was so angry that I was almost to the point of hitting her, even if she was a girl. I don't think I could've come up with a comeback to save my life.), by the arrival of Professor Horace Slughorn.

"What's going on here?" said Professor Slughorn, looking between me and _her_, the she-devil. "Inside, all of you! Class is about to begin."

The Slytherins and Gryffindors moved into the classroom. I glared at the she-devil one last time before going into the classroom and slamming my bag down, and I couldn't help but notice that she had done the same thing. She looked angrier than I'd ever seen anyone. Even my mum when I had turned the entire house a bright fuchsia color because I didn't get the new top-of-the-line Firebolt 360.

For the rest of the lesson, I refused to look at her. I was so angry I couldn't even focus on my first-ever potions lesson. Merlin, I hated her guts.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> _I changed this first chapter to how it originally was on , please forgive me for that. I did like the edited version I posting on in the first place, but I've hit some sort of mental block in posting things/writing the next chapters (after ch. 15) so I figured going back and editing it was probably not the right thing to do at this point in time. So, I hope you'll forgive me for the inconsistencies that are_ bound _to happen (and the crappy writing) until I finish this story. And I know, what am I doing posting this when it's such a mess? Well, I need to post something. I'm dying for reviews. And my Hunger Games stories I've hit a BIG mental block in and just...argh anyway not relevant. But like I said, I'm dying for reviews, so feel free to hit that pretty blue button and say something nice!_


	2. The Spider

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Harry Potter. Although that would be pretty awesome :P_

Chapter Two

The Spider

_"Here's looking at you, kid."  
>~Casablanca<em>

* * *

><p>MY FIRST YEAR AT Hogwarts was probably one of the best. So many things happened. Albus found out his father's legacy, and about Dumbledore, who he was named after. Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup, while I watched from the stands and bitterly wished I could've been like Uncle Harry and joined. But first years never make the house team. Gryffindor also won the House Cup; not surprising, really. When you thing about the amount of goodey-two shoes, geniuses, brave people, good people . . . I could really go on all day.<p>

Hogwarts itself, which had, according to my parents, never really been the same since it had nearly been destroyed during the Battle of Hogwarts, was the same as usual to me. Nothing strange, nothing unusual, no dark wizards to fight; but there were plenty of pranks by my cousin, Fred Weasley, and of course, James had to join in on all the pranking. Well, they were in the same year. I couldn't say that I approved of this. I tried to dissuade them from their antics as much as I could to no avail, of course.

And as for me personally, well . . . my life has been . . . interesting. Well, disregarding the fact that I was a witch and went to Hogwarts, not to mention that I was a part of one of the most famous families in Britain . . .

I got 112 percent on my charms final. My mum was so proud of me, she told me my father found this extraordinarily amusing, since she herself had scored 112 on her charms test her first year. All of my other tests I did extraordinarily well on, too. I beat Scorpius Malfoy, which pleased my father immensely. I had scored top in every class. I was the best in our year. Just like my mother. I was really quite proud of myself.

Not least because it shut Scorpius up for about a week; I think he had really thought he was going to do better than me. Well, seeing as how he had become downright unbearable the week before finals suggested that avenue. I was disappointed, however, that he had come in second. I had really quite hoped he would turn out to be a blithering idiot. I hated myself for it; but I was silently impressed that he wasn't.

Just because he was smart, though, didn't distract me from the fact that he was an asshole; an unbearable, arrogant, malicious, egotistical asshole. I wanted to pop his big head like a soap bubble all year. He thought he was brilliant; what really got me was that he was. But I also knew he was scum.

How did I know this? I had conclusive proof. He would play tricks on me to try and get me in trouble. But I knew better. Well, except the first time.

What happened, you ask? Well, we decided to have a duel. The stupid prick was boasting he could beat me with both arms tied behind his back. Yeah, right. This idiot obviously didn't know me very well.

I heartily said no, because it was against the rules. And my stupid cousin decided to get me into it. That's right. Roxy Weasley, sister of Fred and daughter of George Weasley, got me into it. I loved her to death, she was one of my favorite cousins, but sometimes she could be such a prick.

Anyway, she started boasting that there was no way that Scorpius could beat me, and obviously he didn't know how brilliant I was. I could've jinxed her right then and there, because then she locked me in by declaring that she was my second. Dammit.

Scorpius gladly accepted. Stupid prat. He obviously didn't know what he was dealing with.

We met at midnight; in the trophy room. To be honest, I really didn't expect him to show up. I really should have known better: Scorpius Malfoy would never, ever miss a chance to try and jinx me.

"He's not gonna show, Rose, it was just a trick to get us caught by Filch, I told you so!"

"_Shhh!_" I hushed Albus. Roxy and I had run into him in the common room, and, when he had grilled it out of us where we were going, wouldn't accept _no_ for an answer. He was going with us and that was that. "If you don't be quiet, _you're_going to get us caught!"

Albus rolled his eyes, while Roxy nodded her head in agreement.

"Hey, look at this!" whispered Albus after some minutes had passed. He was looking at a small golden plague. Roxy and I peered over his shoulders to examine. It was a _Special Awards for Services to the School_, with, clearly written, _Harry J. Potter_, and _Ronald B. Weasley_. "I wonder what—"

All of us started as we heard soft footsteps by the door. Albus shut his mouth and stared wide-eyed. Roxy inhaled sharply and grasped my arm tightly above the elbow. I threw her a glare and shook her off, raising my wand. I was certain this was either Filch or Malfoy, though Filch was definitely the more rational choice, which was why I was half-hiding behind a large trophy case.

"To be honest, Weasley, I didn't expect you to show up."

My eyes narrowed and my lips pursed as I heard the voice I despised more than any other.

"Gryffindors are brave," I stepped out from behind the trophy case and raised my wand into his face. "Slytherins are the ones that are supposed to be slimy snakes."

"Gryffindors are stupid, you mean, while Slytherins have a bit more of a sense of self-preservation," he parried, also raising his wand. "After all, how did you know I wouldn't send Filch instead?"

"Because," I said, but didn't elaborate. He was right—I hadn't thought of that; which had been incredibly stupid of me. He smirked at me.

"I do suppose you know how to duel? I mean, a Know-It-All such as you would surely know how to duel . . . but, then again, it _is_Miss Perfect we're talking about here . . ."

"Bring it on," I raised my wand at him, while Albus looked on warily and Roxy looked excited.

"Alright," said Roxy, looking between us, and acting as a sort of referee, "ten paces," we both did as she said, never taking our eyes off one another, Albus watched Malfoy suspiciously. "On the count of three . . ." I prepared myself, and Malfoy did the same. "One . . ." I imagined him writhing on the ground with tentacles spurting out of his face, but of course I didn't know how to do any such thing, I had, however, looked up and practiced minor jinxes in the library . . . "Two . . ." Oh, I hoped the bangs wouldn't attract Filch. . .I should have known then that that was exactly Malfoy's intention . . .

"_Three!_"

There was a loud _bang! _And clatters as we both ducked, the twin curses flying over our heads and hitting several trophies. Both of us stared, wide-eyed, at the noise we had made.

And to my worst fear, Peeves the Poltergeist came floating out of nowhere, looking down upon us all with an evil grin on his face.

"Why lookie here! It's little Wosy Weasl_weeee_!" At this Peeves did a little backflip.

"Peeves," I said, terrified out of my mind, "please be quiet! Please . . ."

"Should tell Filch I should, Ickle Firsties out of bed after hours, naughty naughty, you'll get caughtie . . ."

"Please, Peeves, please don't!"

Peeves grinned an evil, wicked grin, rubbing his hands together.

"It's really for your own good, you know, wouldn't want anything to happen to Wittle Wosie and Potty Wee Potter . . ."

And I knew what was going to happen before it did.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE TROPHY ROOM!"

And I can tell you, we _scampered_. We all ran from the room, Malfoy on our heels, the gleeful, cackling Peeves swooping after us.

"Stop! _Stop!_" Filch was wheezing after us. I knew we were done for. Especially when Mrs. Norris skidded to a halt in front of us out of nowhere, tripping Roxy, who was in front, (damn Roxy's clumsiness!) Albus tripped over Roxy, and I tripped over Albus, and Malfoy landed on top of me, winding me.

"_Shit_," I heard Roxy wheeze.

"Hehehehe!" Filch was cackling gleefully. "Ooh! Good job, my sweet! Now who've we got here?"

I was suddenly blinded as the light of the lantern swung into my eyes.

"Oho!" Filch sounded like Christmas had come early. "Two Weasleys, a Potter and Malfoy! Hehe! Get up!"

We did as he said, all of us standing up and looking extremely guilty.

"Come with me, to the headmistresses office, yesss, oho I've got you now! Just like your parents, all of you! Bunch of troublemakers and rule-breakers and mess-makers . . . Caught 'em . . . all of 'em! hehehe!"

Well, needless to say, we all got in quite a lot of trouble. Thirty points each from our house (which was totally unfair, as there was only one Slytherin and it was his fault to begin with . . .), detention, and McGonagall was going to send letters home to our parents.

"I am _very _disappointed in all of you!" McGonagall had said, her severe eyebrows coming together in one long, thin line as she frowned.

And guess where we got detention? In the freakin' _Forbidden Forest!_ Isn't that the _point_ of the _Forbidden Forest?_ That it's _Forbidden? _It was so unfair.

The only good thing was that it was with Hagrid. Hagrid had always been an old family friend, always came round for holidays and birthdays and a few dinners. Sort of like a . . . well, a half-giant uncle.

But it was still the Forbidden Forest, there was still who-knows what in there . . .werewolves and thestrals and . . . and giant spiders. . . Plus we'd have to put up with Malfoy's whining the whole time . . .

* * *

><p><em>THE FORBIDDEN FOREST?<em> IS McGonagall off her rocker? Well, I mean, of course she is, but I mean, still, the _Forbidden Forest_? That's just crazy, even for that old bat.

How could I have been so stupid, though? I'm supposed to be a Slytherin, I'm supposed to look after my own neck. It was a high-risk situation and what did I do? Dived into it headfirst . . . just like some kind of stupid-ass Gryffindor. I was so disappointed in myself. And it was all because I wanted to beat the little bitch Rose Weasley in a duel. _How_could I have been so stupid? That girl was going to be the death of me . . . or get me expelled.

Well, detention was not a fun experience for me. I was with the stupid oaf Hagrid and the damn Weasleys and Potter. I was definitely going to get the worst of it that was for sure.

Turned out all we were doing was collecting unicorn hair off of bushes and trees and the such. It was quite boring, aside from the fact that it was at night and in the forbidden forest. Oh, and that we split up in two groups, and yep, you guessed it. I got stuck with Rose, and that stupid mongrel Fang.

Hagrid had advised us that we should stick to the path, and just collect hairs off the bushes we could get to from the path.

"This is all your fault, Weasley," I muttered at some point, tugging a particularly stubborn bit of hair from a bush. Rose turned to me with an angry look on her face.

"_My_ fault? _I_wasn't the one who suggested we should have a stupid duel!"

"No, but you agreed," I countered, succeeding in tugging the hair out, but landing on my ass. Rose laughed cruelly as I got to my feet. I glared at her. "What makes you so much better than me, anyway? You always act like you're better than me."

"Ha!" scoffed Rose. "Because, Malfoy, I don't pick on people for no reason whatsoever. I don't cheat on my homework—"

"Who said I cheat? And besides, it's not like you don't let your little friends copy off you any chance you get."

"At least I have friends."

This hit home. My temper rose as I approached her, waving the unicorn hair threatingly. "You don't know anything."

"Don't I?" she hissed, "you walk around with absolutely nobody, you don't even attempt to make friends. All you do is try to find new ways to try and torment _me_! Why can't you make friends, huh? Is it because nobody wants to be around the son of a death eater?"

I took a deep breath and turned away from her, trying very hard to keep from hitting her. _She doesn't know anything about me,_ I reminded myself fiercely. _She's just trying to get to me._

She snorted and turned back to walk up along the path a bit further, Fang trotting after her. I hurried to keep up, after all, I didn't want to be caught alone in the middle of the dark path and not be able to have any protection at all.

"Hmph," she huffed when I caught up with her.

"What, are you trying to get me killed?"

"It would definitely be an improvement."

"You—" there was a loud _caw! Caw!_From somewhere and I looked around, terrified. "What was that?"

"Oh, _merlin_Malfoy you're such a coward! It was just a bird!"

"And you're sure about that, are you?" I scoffed at her. Several twigs cracked off to my left and I grabbed Rose's arm. "_That_was not a bird!"

She shook me off, and raised her wand, muttering "_lumos_." I mimicked her.

"There's nothing there," she muttered, squinting her eyes. "It was probably just a rat or—"

There was another, louder, crack, Fang let out a booming bark, and started whining, his tail between his legs.

"I don't think that's a rat," I said, my voice unnaturally high, "that's too big to be a rat!"

"Quit panicking!" Rose whispered, giving me a stern look.

"I think we should scarper . . ." I whispered back. "Before whatever it is decides it's hungry . . ."

"Yeah," she muttered, looking at the dark hole where the noises were coming from. "Yeah, I reckon you're right . . ."

At least eight eyes blinked into life from the dark hole, along with a funny clicking noise.

We both screamed as a giant spider, a _giant spider_, lunged at us, clicking its pincers together, trying to catch us. I grabbed Rose and ran for my life, Fang on our heels. We ran, all the way back up the path. We didn't stop running till we had reached the safety of Hagrid's cabin.

We stopped just outside the door to catch our breath. It was then that I realized I was still gripping Weasley's hand. She looked at our joined hands, then up at me, accusation and hate on her face, but before she could speak I dropped her hand in disgust and acted like it was she who had grabbed my hand before storming into the cabin.

I collapsed at the dingy table, panting, trying to catch my breath, Rose doing the same thing, Fang disappeared under pillows on Hagrid's bed where he stayed, the pillows shaking and shivering.

As soon as I caught my breath, I glared at Rose.

"_That was all your fault!_" I shouted, pointing at her.

"HOW WAS THAT MY FAULT?" She screamed back.

"Oh, hmmm, I dunno," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "YOU ONLY WANTED TO STAND THERE FOR BLOODY FOREVER TOO FIGURE OUT WHAT IT WAS!"

"You didn't want to get in trouble for running from detention for a rat, did you?" I was silent and she took that as confirmation. "That's what I thought!"

"You little _Know-It-All!_You think you're so clever, and because you think you know everything you nearly got us killed!"

"That's not true!"

"Oohoho yes it is! You _always_—"

The door creaked open and we both turned, Hagrid and the others had returned.

"We heard shouting," said the Potter boy, looking between myself and his cousin.

Rose and I exchanged a look, then hurriedly looked away as we caught each other.

"Wha' are yeh doin' in here?" said the stupid great oaf. A gave him a scathing look.

"Oh, nothing, really," I said, my temper growing by the minute. "Just a great giant spider attacked us, no big deal . . ."

"_What?_" shouted Rose's cousins, both running to her, "Are you alright, Rosie?"

"Yeah, fine, no harm done," she said with a wan smile, but then threw me the look of hate she always reserved special for me. I looked away from her.

"Yeh din' 'arm 'im, did yeh?"

I looked at him incredulously. "That think nearly took our heads off, and you're worried about _it_?"

"Yeah, well, though' all of 'em got killed durin' the Battle o' Hogwarts . . ."

Yeah, like I really care about what you've got to say, oaf. I just want to get out of this mad place, and most of all, away from Rose friggin' Weasley and her gang of tragic heroes.

"Is detention over?" I demanded of Hagrid.

"Yeah," he grumbled, pointing towards the door, "so yeh can get outta my house, Malfoy. And go straight back to yer common room, mind, or I'll give yeh another detention!"

I didn't waste a moment. I practically bolted from the house, but before giving Rose a loathing look. She returned the favor, and I slammed the door behind me. As I turned to go back up to the castle, I heard Hagrid shout how rude I was.

Scoffing, I went back to the castle, thinking about my night of detention. Why had I grabbed Rose? Had I seriously actually _cared_ if something happened to her? _Don't be stupid_, I thought. It was just a panic moment, yeah, that was it. I wiped my hands on my robes; I could still feel her sweat combined with mine on my palm. Disgusted with myself and the state of my hands, I showered before I fell in my bed, Rose's hate-filled eyes burning beneath my eyelids and my palm tingling.


	3. Irrational Love

Chapter Three

Irrational Love

_"To Sherlock Holmes, she was always The Woman, the beautiful Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable memory."  
>~The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes<br>_

* * *

><p>SECOND YEAR PASSED JUST like the first. Nothing of notable interest happened, well, aside from that time I set Rose's hair on fire . . . an accident I swear! Her head just happened to pass where I was aiming my wand . . . besides, Madame Pomfrey was able to fix her up in a trice, so it was no big deal . . . really . . .<p>

Well, anyway, when it was time to go back to Hogwarts for third year, I knew something about this year was going to be different. Perhaps it was because I was now thirteen and felt that I could take on the world, or maybe I was having a bit of foresight as to what was going to happen. Either way, third year was going to be different, I knew it.

It most certainly was.

For whatever reason, the fights between _her_and I had become more intense. They were no longer the pointless bickering of two people who did not get along, but they were actually over something. They were no longer jabs but disagreements. Disagreements turned into arguments, and more than not we ended up in detention together over it. And then, of course, we would get into an argument during detention. I do believe we were in detention more than anyone else, and that includes Fred and George Weasley and James Potter. Put together.

My hatred for her increased tenfold over the course of the first semester. It seemed that whenever we argued she always won. It was perhaps because she was infinitely smarter than me and I knew it. It stung my pride. I thought perhaps that once Quidditch tryouts were held and we got the same position on opposing teams, it might nurse my injured ego back to its over-inflated state, as I knew I was a better Chaser than her. I was wrong, of course. I should have known better. There was no way anyone could beat a Weasley or a Potter at Quidditch. It was just simply impossible.

Well, it was after Fall Break that everything began to change. That life, as I knew it, ended.

It was about a week after I got back. I was sitting with Goyle and Blaise, the closest people I could count as "friends" though I didn't feel that way. I did not have any friends. It would be nigh impossible to feel any kind of emotion for these idiots in Slytherin, aside from disgust. But I pretended to like them. It assuaged the loneliness that I constantly felt.

Anyway, it was lunch. And Goyle and Blaise were talking about something they found very funny, though because I was half-paying attention (I was studying), I did not get the joke.

I had had a very bad day already. I had gotten back a test paper we had done in transfiguration and the score was not very good. It put me in quite a temper, and I was studying to try and take my mind off things. And it did not help that only an hour before I had gotten into yet another argument with _her_over . . . well, honestly I can't quite remember what it was over. But it had definitely just made things worse.

By then I had really started to loathe when we fought. Honestly, I had started to hate fighting with her. It not only made me fell extraordinarily insignificant, it made me feel . . . It gave me this awful, heavy feeling in my chest. It weighed me down. It made me feel like nothing good was ever, ever going to happen to me and I would just continue to fight with her all the time.

"Hey, hey Malfoy!" chuckled Goyle in his stupid –sounding voice. "Let's play a prank on that Weasley girl!"

Sighing, I turned to him, suddenly annoyed. "Goyle, can't you see that I'm studying? I don't care."

He punched me in the arm, making me drop my spoon. "C'mon, Scorp, why do you study so much? It's not like it matters in the real world."

"Yes, actually, it does," I said tersely, rolling my eyes. "When you get a job, it's important to actually know what you're doing in said job."

Goyle guffawed. "C'mon Malfoy, you know you'd love to play a prank on that stupid little Weasley girl. You hate her."

"No, actually I don't want to play a prank on her." I said, turning back to my transfiguration book.

"Well, why not?"

"Because, Goyle," I said impatiently, "we get in enough fights as is. I don't want nor need to start another one. Grow up."

Goyle frowned and gave up on me, turning back to Blaise.

I huffed and turned back to my book. I admit, I barely took in anything in the chapter. I was so distracted. Everything I found in the hall diverted me in my task of trying to get through the chapter. Something about the construction and similarities between mammals and amphibians or reptiles or some such thing, point was—I couldn't focus. There was one thing in particular that kept distracting me –a light flashing by the Gryffindor table. But every time I looked over, it was gone. I did this so many times that I knew my neck would be thoroughly worn out. Eventually it annoyed me so much that I just stared over there.

It was Weasley's hair. I could hardly believe that that was what had distracted me. Every movement of her head made the red strands of hair shine in the sunlight.

I tried to look away, but the more it shone, the more I kept looking. I found myself transfixed by the way the light hit her hair, the way the light strands would catch the light as she tossed it over her shoulder. I realized I had not really looked at it in quite a while. It was longer—it was only about four inches above her elbows—and it was no longer bushy. It fell in smooth waves down her back. And then I started looking at the other parts of her body.

She was no longer then lanky eleven year old she had been. She had begun to form curves, and her robes clung to her curves in a way that made my heart race.

She looked around. Our eyes met. For one fleeting second there was a look in her eyes that made fireworks explode in my chest. That second seemed to last an eternity. And then . . . nothing. She gave me a look of hatred and disgust that I didn't even think of returning. All I knew was that the room had suddenly become suffocating and I couldn't breathe. I had to get out . . . away from _her_, away from everyone. I gathered my books and got the hell out of there, her eyes following me the entire time.

I didn't stop till I reached the lake. I dropped my bag by the big beech tree and splashed into the cooling water, quickly soaking my socks, shoes and the bottom of my trousers. But the ice-cold water brought me back to my senses, and it was like being awaked abruptly. I took deep, soothing breaths until my heart had stopped racing and rational thought began to creep its way back into my head. I stepped out of the water, took off my shoes and socks, and began to dry my trousers. I all but collapsed next to the tree where I had left my stuff, and I held my head in my hands.

What had just happened in there? I must be sick or something. I checked my forehead. I did feel a bit hot. There obviously must have been something wrong with me because I was clearly delusional. For the thoughts and fantasies my mind had formed in that short space of time was obviously the product of a feverish mind, there was really no other explanation. I had thoroughly convinced myself by then that I really must be sick, because there was no way in hell, no way in hell, that those thoughts that my mind had unwillingly forced upon me could possibly be the product of a rational mind.

But then again, I did not know then what I do now—love is never rational.

* * *

><p>Hermione Weasley had been through war, love, grief, pain, and happiness. She had been through marriage and childbirth. She had raised and taken care of her two children, (and her husband, too. Merlin knows he couldn't take care of himself). She could say she had been as reasonably well prepared as she could have been in any of those circumstances, but nothing could have prepared her for one hot summer afternoon before dinner when her nearly fourteen year old daughter approached her with a simple question—<p>

"Mum, how do you know when a guy likes you?"

Yes, nothing could have prepared her for that feeling of dread that coursed through her veins at that question.

_Ron's not going to be happy,_she thought with a shiver of trepidation. Hermione sighed and turned to her daughter.

She was always amazed at how much Rose looked like herself, aside from the red hair, blue eyes and excessive amount of freckles. But the bushy hair, the buck teeth, the inquisitive eyes, were all Hermione. Aside from that smudge of dirt on her nose. That was most defiantly Ron.

"Hun, you've got dirt on your nose," said Hermione, taking a dish towel and approaching the offending spot, but Rose waved her off.

"Mum! Just tell me!"

"Oh, alright then," sighed Hermione. She sat down at the table; Rose put down the potato peeler and joined her. "How do I start? Your father and I were friends all through school, and it just sort of happened, of course, we quite liked each other for a long while, and the whole school knew we liked each other. The only people who didn't know that we liked each other were us."

Hermione smiled, and her daughter giggled.

"So I don't suppose that's the best example. Hmm, let's see . . . well, in fourth year I dated Viktor Krum—"

"_You dated Viktor Krum_?" exclaimed Rose.

"Hush, not so loud, he's still a bit of a sore spot with your father. The Triwizard Tournament was going on that year, and he was the Durmstrang champion, and of course a famous inter-national Quidditch player. And everytime I was in the library he'd come round, and sit at the desk opposite. He said that he was trying to pluck up the courage to ask me to the Yule Ball. But of course with Viktor Krum came the Giggling Girl Viktor Krum Fan Club, hiding behind the bookcases and debating whether he'd sign their hat with lipstick."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head at the memory.

"But who is it you think likes you?"

Her eyes darted back and forth in a panic. She had clearly not thought this through.

"Er . . . Lorcan Scamander?" Merlin, she was just as bad as her father at lying. Hermione thought about calling her out, but she knew that if her daughter didn't want to tell her, she probably didn't want to know.

"Okay sure," said Hermione, and the look on Roses' face told Hermione that she knew she'd been caught. "But a word of advice—don't let your father know boys are paying attention to you. He'll be unbearable."

Rose grinned.

"Go set the table, and tell dad and Hugo dinner's ready."

Rose jumped up from the table and skipped into the living room, and Hermione felt a tug at her heart. Her little girl was growing up.

* * *

><p>I waited for more than a month into second semester for my mum's advice to come to fruition. I was immensely curious, but the more I watched Malfoy, the more I thought I knew. Whenever I saw him in the corridors, he would look the other direction. We hardly ever fought anymore, mainly because he avoided me at all costs. There were times when I caught him looking at me in a strange way, and then he would flush, give me a dirty look, and then look away or return to whatever he was doing. I seriously suspected that Scorpius Malfoy had a crush on me.<p>

I wasn't sure how I felt about this. On one hand, he was the person who had caused me more grief than even my brother, which was saying something. And I was _supposed _to hate him with all my guts, because that was how I had felt for the past two years. But on the other hand, there was something in the way he looked at me that made my heart race and my head light.

Regardless of how either of us felt, it was forbidden anyway. Just imagining the look on my father's face made me cringe. I was pretty sure my mother would be okay with it after the initial shock, but my dad would probably disown me. Not to mention my many cousins and uncles. James would probably want to beat Scorpius to death, and Al . . . I wasn't quite sure how Albus would react. But it probably wouldn't be good.

Wait, why was I thinking this? I hated Scorpius! Why was I thinking about him as though . . . as though . . . as if we were a _couple_? What was _wrong _with me?

I threw down my quill and stared at the blank piece of parchment in front of me. I was supposed to be doing a foot and a half of parchment for Slughorn on shrinking solutions, and instead I was daydreaming about what would happen if Malfoy and I were a couple. I pursed my lips in agitation and put my nose to the grindstone.

I had had about three-quarters of the parchment filled when Albus came in and collapsed next to me.

"I hate that class," he muttered.

"I told you not to take it, but you didn't listen to me. You just _had_to take divination."

Albus groaned and dropped his head on the desk dramatically.

"What happened this time?" I said sympathetically.

"She pulled out 'death' in the tarot cards. I wish she'd quit saying I'm going to die every five minutes."

"You know she's just an old fraud."

"I dunno, dad told me not to underestimate her. That every once in a while she's pretty accurate."

"Every _great _once in a while."

He looked up from the table.

"What are you working on?"

"Slughorn's essay."

Albus jumped up and took out quill and parchment from his bag. "What have you got so far?"

I frowned at him.

"I don't know why you think you can copy off me every time. I'm not going to be there during an exam, you know."

"Aw, come on, Rose . . ."

I huffed.

"I'm almost done. You can have it after I'm finished."

I scribbled off the rest of the essay with Albus flipping through his potions book absently. Extremely annoyed, I pushed the essay towards him.

"Thanks," he said, dipping his quill into ink and putting it to paper. "How are you and Lorcan?"

"What?" I had temporarily forgotten that I was dating Lorcan Scamander. "Oh, that. Fine. Just fine."

Albus looked up from the parchment.

"You know, if you don't like dating him, then why don't you break it off?"

That was the problem with Albus. He could read me like a book.

"It's none of your business."

Albus raised his eyebrows, "Fine then."

I sighed. "I didn't mean . . . I just don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

He was right, really. Why did I date Lorcan if most of the time I couldn't stand him? He was fine at first, as he was different, and had been very nice, but he was just so . . . _weird_, some of his ideas were just so ridiculous . . . and as much as I wanted to break up with him, I didn't quite know how to go about it. And with my growing suspicions about Malfoy . . . my desire to break it off had been doubled.

"Maybe you're right," I said quietly after a while. Al's head snapped up. "Maybe I should break up with him."

"Yes, maybe you should."

"But how would I do it?" I was talking more to myself than Albus, but he responded anyway.

"Just tell him you don't think it's working out."

I looked up at him. I really hadn't paid any attention to what he was saying, but an idea was forming in my head anyway.

"Or that you're just, I don't know, not into him or something. Or maybe . . ."

The idea in my head was becoming more concrete, as I figured out ways I could pull it off . . . of course, yes, I could do it, that would be easy . . .

"Rose, are you listening to me?"

"Al, you're a genius!" I said excitedly, and threw my arms around him. He looked very puzzled and a bit grouchy as I hurried out of the room to break up with my boyfriend.


	4. I Love Her

**Disclaimer:** _No, I don't own Harry Potter. _

Chapter Four

I Love Her

_"Love means never having to say you're sorry."  
>~Love story<em>

* * *

><p>It took me three full weeks to come to the conclusion of what had happened in that moment. Three weeks to accept what I had been denying for three years. Three weeks to notice everything about her I had never noticed before. Three weeks of looking and thinking of her with longing, three weeks of noticing how smart, how beautiful, how funny, how kind and caring she was to everyone but me. Three weeks of watching her flirt with that little prick Lorcan Scamander and making my insides burn with jealousy. And it took me three seconds after I had come to this revelation to decide I must never, ever let anyone know. Especially her.<p>

I no longer hated her. I realized all along the reason I thought I had hated her. And that reason would destroy me, and so must never come to light.

Because the plain and simple truth was . . . well, was that I loved her.

The rest of the year passed with me avoiding anything to do with her. I knew no matter what happened, no matter how badly I felt for her, she must never know. Nevertheless, I thought I saw something in her gaze when she caught me looking at her, a combination of suspicion and, I must confess, something that made my heart race.

More than ever I wished these feelings had not come upon me as September the First of our fourth year approached. I couldn't tell you why this hit me so powerfully then, but it was almost like something of a premonition. I always thought I might have a bit of seer blood, though it was only brought out when it had to do with Rose. Stupid effing Rose Weasley.

Oh, yes, though I no longer disliked her, I _did _hate her, in a way. In a terrible, terrible way I hated her for making me love her: For turning me into a coward, for ruining my life just by her existence. And yet I loved her. To the passer-by and to those who did not and could not know, it was insanity. But to me it made perfect sense.

For the first few months I hid my feelings as I had done the previous year. And it worked. And then the second Hogsmeade visit of the year, Christmas, happened. And something that would change my life forever ensued once again.

The day started out like any other day, I woke up, utterly depressed, hating my life, wishing it would all just _end_. But no, like always, I had to force myself to get up and go to breakfast. Something felt different today, I couldn't quite describe exactly what but _something_was going to happen. Something . . . something bad.

She was beautiful, as always, her hair shiny, her blue eyes slightly puffy, she was not a morning person. This I knew. How could you watch someone for a year and a half _longing_ to be with them, for everything to be less _complicated _. . . and _not _know that they were not a morning person? That she did not like to be talked to in the morning, she preferred to absorb herself in a book before classes that day.

This morning she was slapping butter on her toast in a dull, routine sort of way. Her book was propped up against the milk jug, and I squinted at the title._ Numerology in Numbers_, ah, so she was studying for Arthrimancy. I didn't understand why on earth she was doing this, as it was Saturday. Rose frowned, her eyes remained steady for a moment, then she looked up at me.

I was not expecting this. My heart began to race as every time, and I beat the feeling back as always. Must _not _show any sort of feelings for her. At all. No matter how beautiful she was, no matter how alluring she looked as she frowned at me, a question burning in those burning blue eyes, blue eyes, that, at that moment, I felt could see right through me. My breathing hitched, and I swear I thought I saw a triumphant look in her eye. She grinned, and turned back to her friends. She_ grinned_.

That meant either one of two things. One, she was planning my demise in a particularly humiliating way, or two . . . she actually knew my secret, or suspected, and was thinking of a way which she could exploit it. Because there was no _way_, no way at all, that she could actually return those feelings and was happy about her suspicions being confirmed, right?

Right.

Wrong. So wrong.

* * *

><p>When I saw that look, I knew. I knew what I had been thinking for over a year was true. And when Scorpius did not automatically spring up a false look of loathing, I knew his resolve was weakening.<p>

The only question now was what to do about it. The strange feelings that I felt towards him, which I denied every day, of course, grew ever so slightly stronger the more I tried to resist them. Resist _him_. The gorgeous smile that lit up on his face very, very rarely, his extra-white teeth, his white-blonde hair, his deep grey eyes, ever so thoughtful, ever so cautious, and it was maddening to sit there and not know what he was thinking so hard about. He was _always _thinking.

What could I do?

Well, on one hand, I could ignore it. I could pretend like nothing could ever, possibly happen between us. I could act like he was less than shit to me, continue living in denial, to be miserable. On the other . . . on the other I could admit to myself, and possibly to him, that I no longer hated him, that I felt something quite different towards him. But that was out of the question. What would our families think? What would our friends think? I did want to know.

What, oh what was I to do?

* * *

><p>The thick snow crunched beneath our feet as we ploughed our way up the high street. I suppose the village of Hogsmeade was beautiful, with the soft flakes of snow falling gently on the roofs of the buildings. But I could not really appreciate that beauty at the moment, because Rose Weasley was walking in front of me, and I was quite distracted by certain . . . er . . . body parts . . . (What? I AM a teenage boy, after all). After a bit I came to my senses, and thought I might shout something insulting at her, just so she didn't think I was getting soft or something.<p>

"Hey, Weasley!" I shouted, she turned. "Think you can fit through the door with that fat ass?"

Rose did not deign to respond, but gave me a scathing look and kept walking. My friends beside me guffawed.

"I doubt it could get there, though," I shouted again, goading her, "Through that giant bird's-nest you call hair!"

She flicked the aforementioned hair, that was not anything like a bird's-nest but silky and long, and ignored me once again while Goyle and Blaise roared with laughter.

"Maybe Potter can help pull you through the door!"

"Alright that's IT Malfoy!" And I suddenly found myself nose-to-nose with her the tip of her wand. I have to admit, I was terrified, Rose Weasley was no shabby spellcaster. "I don't know who you think you are," she said, leaning in a bit closer. I couldn't help but notice she smelled very nice, and it put me in mind of a soft, warm flower. "But you're NOTHING to me, you're DIRT, Malfoy, and you won't ever be more than that!"

My friends guffawed at this seemingly feeble insult, but I felt my heart drop to my stomach, as my fear of the morning was confirmed. She did know. And she hated me for it. It was like everything else was seen from far away, and the only real thing was the awful pain in my chest, Rose's soft smell, and that stick of wood in my face that was between us.

And then everything came rushing back. Rose flushed from the Slytherin's laughter, but glared at me, swung on her heel, and kept walking down to the village.

I don't know what I had been hoping for these last few months, but it seemed I had balled it all up in the back of my mind that if she knew how I felt about her she would swoon in my arms and declare her undying love for me. But now it felt like I had been slapped and all my dreams had hit a brick wall.

To this day I can't quite remember how I ended up in the Three Broomsticks, with Goyle shoving a warm Butterbeer under my nose. I looked up to see Goyle and Blaise looking at me concernedly. I blinked several times and took a sip of the frothy drink. They looked immensely relieved.

"You alright, mate?" said Blaise.

"Fine," I said, a little shortly.

"Was worried about you there for a second," said Goyle.

"I'm fine, guys," I scowled, drowning my butterbeer in one and slamming it on the table with a loud _thunk!_I stood up. "I'll see you guys around."

"Oh," said Blaise, looking slightly surprised and disappointed. "Well, bye then Scorp-o!"

"Don't call me that," I scowled and stomped out the door.

Stupid, stupid, Rose-Bloody-Weasley! I hated her. Why did she have to do that? Torment me? Taunt me? I hated her. But I loved her. Dammit.

Screw my life.

I continued up the high street, muttering dark asides about how evil Rose Weasley was, barely conscious of where I was going, with the result that I walked smack into her.

"Sorry," she said, obviously not realizing who she had just run into. She did have quite a few scarves on and her hat was pulled low. It was amazing she could see at all. Most unusually, she was alone.

"It's okay," I said, not having the energy to fight with her. "I should have been paying attention."

She did seem to recognize my voice, and she seemed shocked by me being nice to her. She impatiently brushed past me.

"Rose!" I called, and she looked back. "I'm sorry for calling you fat," God, I sounded pathetic.

Rose was silent for a long moment. What was I thinking? Of course she wouldn't want my whimpering, pathetic apology. She was probably contemplating the best hex to use on me. I turned to leave.

"Wait," she said. I swung around hopefully. "It's okay."

And then she turned and ran up the street into the Hog's Head.

I stood there, I don't know how long. It was a long time, that was for sure. Had she just . . . accepted my apology? I walked back up to the castle like a zombie.

* * *

><p>I don't know why I did it. I shouldn't have done it. Why did I accept his apology? More importantly, <em>why did he apologize?<em>

What the _hell_ was that about?


	5. Place Your Bets

Chapter Five

Place Your Bets

_"Open your eyes and look at me. No, I don't think I will kiss you – although you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how."  
>~Gone With The Wind<em>

* * *

><p>I stared at the crimson curtains hanging around bed. They were really quite ugly. Maybe if they were a different, lighter fabric, they would be prettier. If they were made of cotton or satin, they would sway gently if the window was open. As it was, the heavy velvet just sort of hung there. Boring.<p>

"Rose!"

I looked up to see the angry face of my cousin Albus. Oops. I had tuned him out. "Sorry, what?"

We were in Albus's dorm, I was laying down, my arms folded behind my head. Albus was leaning against the post, his feet propped up next to my head. I stared at them in disgust.

"Get those things out of my face, will you?"

He slid them back and sat Indian-style.

"What's wrong with you?" he interrogated for the fifth time today. "Why are you all so . . . you're thinking too much."

"I _told _you," I huffed, exasperated. "I'm just worried about exams."

This was not, of course, true. Exams were more than two months away. I knew I _should _be worried about them, my mother would be incensed if she knew I hadn't started studying, or that I didn't care that much at all. Dad would be quite proud of me, of course, and would say something like 'Like father, like daughter!' or 'that's my girl!' Parents are annoying.

What was bothering me was, aside from cousins asking stupid questions and annoying, reminiscent parents, there was a certain blonde boy who I couldn't get out of my head.

"I don't believe you," said Albus.

"Of course you don't," I responded, bored.

"I'm being serious!" Albus said, hitting me with a pillow.

"Of course you are," I said, grinning.

My cousin scowled at me. I smirked.

"Rosie," he said, giving me the serious-face. Uh oh. "I'm worried about you. You haven't been acting like yourself recently. You aren't studying, you zone out in class, which you also seem to do everywhere. You only pick at your food, and normally you have an insatiable appetite."

My turn to scowl at him.

"Tell me what's going on," said Albus.

"What's going on," I said, my temper rising. "Is that I have nosy, interfering cousins who ask stupid questions."

"Stupid . . . ?" He looked shocked. I felt mildly pleased with myself. "I'm just worried about you Rose! Families are supposed to look out for each other! I want to know you're okay!"

"I'm fine!" I said, rising and pointing an accusing finger. "So stop asking me! Because I'm not going to tell you or anyone else!"

"So you admit there is something," said Albus, looking triumphant.

"NO!" I shouted, starting to feel seriously annoyed. "THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!"

Albus sat back down on the bed, looking at me like he could see right through my charade. It was quite unnerving.

"If there's nothing wrong, then tell me why I catch you staring at Scorpius Malfoy all the time."

I was so thrown off my guard that my jaw dropped and I forgot my arguments. How the hell did he know? Damn that he knew me so well. I flopped back down on the bed and threw Al's pillow over my head to cover my burning red ears.

"So it's true?" he continued, as though I wasn't embarrassed out of my mind that he had just declared I had a crush on my arch-nemesis. And that it was true. "I knew it. I knew you liked him. How long?"

I emerged from under the pillow, glaring at him. "A few months now. I know he's liked me for a year, at least. I noticed when he stopped picking fights. I don't _want _to like him!" I threw my hands up, as though mere words would not prove my point. I let my hands fall to the bed, dejected. "I don't know what to do."

Albus didn't answer, but looked like he was thinking hard. He stood up and started pacing. Oh, Merlin.

"Well, for one, don't tell anyone."

"Duh, obvious," I said, "something useful?"

He started pacing again.

"Well, what do you _want _to do?" inquired my over-inquiring cousin.

"I don't know!" I said, throwing my hands up again. "I can't do anything about it! I can't be with him, regardless. Can you imagine what everyone would say?"

"Yes, but you shouldn't let that get in the way," he muttered.

"_Get in the way?_" I screeched. "I can't date him, period! It wouldn't work, we're supposed to hate each other! My father would kill me, kill _him_, and kill you 'cos you knew and didn't tell him or knock me to my senses."

Albus opened his mouth, but before he could reply, the door creaked open and my annoying younger brother, Hugo, poked his head in.

"What's going on? I heard raised voices."

"Shove off, pipsqueak," I snarled.

"Woah, look out, bookworm's feeling cranky," said Hugo sarcastically.

"Get out!" I said, picking up a book off the nightstand and chucking it as hard as I could towards his head. He shut the door just in time and did not re-enter. I stuffed my head under the pillow again.

"I hate my life," I muttered. Albus patted me on the back sympathetically.

Albus crossed the room and picked up the book. "In future," he grumbled, sounding annoyed. "Can you refrain from throwing my herbology books across the room?"

Al looked over at me, and must have thought I looked pathetic or something because he frowned.

"Look, it'll be alright. We'll figure something out. But there's nothing we can do right now but wait."

* * *

><p>Fourth year passed. My feelings for her didn't change, nor go away. If anything they grew stronger. Fifth year came and went, and I had to start thinking about my future. But the only thing I was sure about in my future was that I wanted to spend it with Rose Weasley.<p>

I had started to daydream, not only about what I would do with her if I got her alone, but what our life together would be like. Our wedding, what our children would look like. Red hair and grey eyes, and they would be beautiful. I had already started to love them, even though they were nothing but a figment of my imagination. I had it bad. Like, _really_bad.

I caught her staring at me. This did not escape my notice. I caught her conversing in hushed whispers with Albus Potter, a distressed look on her face, and when she noticed me looking, she blushed and stopped talking.

I drifted off to sleep at night thinking of her, she was the first thing I thought of every morning. Little did she know that my resolve to stay away from her was a battle I lost long ago. The only thing stopping me now was that I was afraid . . . afraid of her, afraid that she didn't love me back.

I loved her too much. I wanted her happy. Seeing her smile made my day. She was better off without me, my complicated life, my father who didn't care to notice anything about me. My parents fighting, and my non-existent social life. It was all about her, and that was the only thing that I wanted or needed in life—to see her smile.

I was too far gone to care. It was like I was in a trance. My grades started to go downhill. It was no longer about trying to beat her at anything. When we played against each other in Quidditch it was more about the way her body felt against mine than it was about getting the Quaffle. My life was forfeit and I longed for her to make the first move.

I was too cowardly, too scared that she would hate me like she did when we were kids. And I was too busy looking at her to notice that she looked at me the same way.

We still fought, but it was different . . . the tension was always there. I loved the way she would blush to the roots of her flaming hair when I got a rise out of her. There was something so awe-inspiring about the way she argued, the way her eyes lit up, and the way her hair would fly when she got angry with me

It was more to it than that, though. I watched her study, she would stick her tongue out ever so slightly, focused so much on what she was doing. She chewed her quill, and there was a smudge of ink on her nose that was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen.

I was so far in love with Rose Weasley that nothing else mattered but her.

* * *

><p>They say that gossip travels faster at Hogwarts than anywhere else on earth. And no gossip traveled faster than a hot new 'it' couple, or the possibility of one.<p>

Everyone knew that Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy wanted each other, and it was the topic that the students always fell back on when there was nothing else to talk about. The only people that didn't know about this hot topic were Rose and Scorpius themselves.

It even went so far that the students would make bets. The biggest bet was when they would get together, and the highest it had got among the students was twenty galleons.

Little did the students know that the teachers had made bets as well, and that the stakes were much higher.

"Fourty galleons it'll be after this year," said Professor Slughorn one day in the staff room.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Professor McGonagall, "It won't be that long. Before Christmas or right after."

"You're both wrong," said Professor Trelawney. McGonagall gave her a scathing look. "It will be this summer."

"But they never see each other during the summer!" exclaimed Professor Sinistra. "That's ridiculous; you're going to lose all your money, Sybil. I bet fifty galleons it'll be during Easter break."

"No way!" said Professor Sprout. "They'll get together before October."

"Don't you people have anything better to do with your time?" sneered the portrait of Severus Snape behind them.

* * *

><p>We passed each other in the hallways. I brushed up against him, he caught me if I tripped, and would surreptitiously sniff my hair.<p>

The fights stopped. We exchanged small smiles when no one was looking. We didn't admit it to each other, oh no, but we both knew the way we felt, at least, I did. I knew the way I felt about him. Everyday I fell harder; harder and harder in love with him.

I nearly swooned at those small smiles, the way those piercing grey eyes danced when they saw me, and that every organized thought flew out of my brain when he stared at me. I became suddenly clumsy, and would drop things, trip over things, when he entered a room. He did it on purpose, I know he did, just to see me squirm.

It was like nothing else mattered. Nothing but him. I was happy the rest of the day when he smiled at me. I hoped he would make the first move, because I wasn't brave enough. Some Gryffindor I was.

Everything changed, though, the first of October. It was a warm and sunny day, rare during the fall, and everyone was outside, playing in the leaves or chatting by the lake, or playing Quidditch. But not me; in fact, I think I was the only one inside the castle. I couldn't bear to join the people outside, seeing all the happy couples with their uncomplicated lives, where they were free to love each other. Even Albus had found a steady girlfriend.

I had been in the common room, depressed and bored, and I figured I might go to the library so I might at least assuage the boredom.

The brisk walk helped clear my mind, and I felt a bit less sad. I had thought that I was the only one in the castle. I was wrong. I ran into the very person who was the cause of my misery—Scorpius. We both looked at each other across the hall. Neither of us said anything. We did not turn to leave. And slowly, ever so slowly, we moved closer.

We were quiet for the longest time. I didn't want to be the one to break this moment, the silence, with my heart thudding out of my chest. It was a rare moment where we didn't have to put up the barriers we did around other people. And then Scorpius spoke, and the spell was broken.

"I can't stand this anymore," he said. I didn't have to ask what he was talking about. I knew.

"Me either," I replied. "What can we do, though? We're supposed to hate each other."

"But we don't," he said softly, reaching out a hand and brushing a stray hair from my face. The gesture was so gentle and beautiful it broke my heart. Man, I had it bad. "I can't stand pretending to hate you anymore!" His voice rose, and it was a different anger than I normally saw from him. It was frustration.

"But this can't happen!" I whispered, tears in my eyes. I angrily brushed them away. "We can't do anything! My dad would kill me, _your _dad would kill you, and then when they were done with us they'd kill each other!"

"Dammit Rose!" he said, and I felt the familiar beginnings of a classic Rose/Scorpius argument. "I can't do this! I can't! I can't stand it! I feel so helpless all the time! I want you, and that's all I want! I don't care what anyone else thinks!"

I was so shocked at these words, the rage in his eyes, he was angrier than I'd ever seen him before.

"_You don't care_," I spat. "I love my family! They mean the world to me! That would be awful if they hated me! You can't possibly understand—"

"_What_? WHAT don't I understand? I love my family just as much as you love yours! My family might be messed up, yeah, my dad might have been a death eater, my parents might hate each other, but that doesn't mean I don't love them! YOU can't possibly _understand_."

The pain and rage in his eyes stung as much, if not more, than his words. I felt tears spring to my eyes and I couldn't hold them back.

"This isn't fair," I whispered. "This isn't fair at all."

"_Life's_ not fair!" he shouted. "I hate this! I hate arguing with you! I want it to end, I don't _want_to argue anymore! Don't you understand yet, Rose?"

His eyes were burning, and I suddenly found I did not want to hear what he was going to say. I knew what he was going to say, and I definitely did not want to hear it, if he said that, if he let it slip from his tongue, everything—_everything_—would change.

"No," I gasped, and backed away, just about to flee. "Don't—don't say it . . . don't do it . . ."

He went with me, I felt my back hit the wall. I felt trapped, and it offered no comfort to me at all when he put his hands on the wall behind me on either side of my head. I felt quite dizzy. I slid an inch down the wall, searching for an escape route.

"Please, don't!" I cried, pushing at his chest, and he grabbed both of my wrists, and I felt myself melting in those fierce eyes as he forced me to look at him. I was speechless. For the first time in my life, I was utterly speechless. I could think of nothing else but those eyes . . . those eyes burning into me . . . into my _soul_. It was the most naked, helpless feeling. His voice was the softest I had ever heard it when he whispered to me, it was so tender, as if each word carried the weight of the world. And every word did.

"Don't you know that I love you?"

I swear my heart vanished and fireworks took its place. No . . . this wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This was wrong, and yet so perfectly right that I was torn in two.

I felt my knees give out, but he didn't let me fall. He had me pinned against the wall and he held my wrists so tightly it hurt. The pain helped keep me from totally blacking out. Those eyes were the only thing I saw, and his lips were so very close to mine, and it was like the rest of the world didn't matter.

"I can't resist you anymore," he whispered huskily, before his lips met mine in the most passionate, charged kiss I had ever had before. He let go of my wrists and one hand snaked around my waist while the other found its way to my jaw. My hands tangled in his hair, and the only feeling in the world was his lips on mine, the explosion taking place in my chest, and the way sparks ignited where his hands touched me. I couldn't breathe and I felt his heart beating just as erratically as mine.

It was heavenly perfection and I never, ever wanted it to end because it was the most wonderful feeling in the world . . . but it had to end, and I had to be the one to put a stop to it, because if I didn't, we'd be in even deeper than we were now.

I pushed him away, none to gently, and he stepped back a few feet, looking dazed and confused, his eyes half closed, his lips still parted, and his cheeks flushed. Scorpius looking like that just made me want to kiss him all over again, but I couldn't. I couldn't let it happen. I ran, ran all the way back to my bed, stuffed my head under my pillows, and cried harder than I ever had before in my life.

* * *

><p>Her lips left mine, and the wonderful spell she had had me in broke. I felt somewhat like I had just been hit hard over the head. My heart was still beating out of my chest, my palms still tingled, but my lips suddenly felt very cold and lonely. I opened my eyes, and I saw red hair and black cloak whip around as she spun on her heel and ran. I swear I heard a sob.<p>

I felt the most awful sense of loss.

Why had she pushed me away? I thought she had been kissing me back, that the fireworks were mutual. How had I been so stupid as to open my heart that far? Even now I felt it breaking. Of course I was going to get hurt and of course she hated me. And now she hated me more than ever.

I was barely conscious of turning around and sliding down the wall. I wrapped my cloak around my head and felt the sting of tears. Was this how you were supposed to feel after your first kiss with the person you loved more than life itself? Alone and hurt and confused? I felt cold and empty, and the tingle of her lips on mine, those beautiful blue eyes. Why had I done that? I had just ruined everything. Everything that had ever mattered to me was broken in that one, wonderful moment. Why did that brief moment of bliss carry such a heavy cost?

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

I choked, a few silent tears escaping, my heart breaking. It felt awful. Rose hated me and I had hurt her. She had left me. She didn't love me. She never had. I had been an idiot to think that those looks she gave me were of secret longing.

I don't know how long I sat curled there. But when I heard the many footsteps of returning students, I knew it was time to leave before I was caught.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ Yay! Snogging! Anyway, I do hope you'll leave a review. :D _


	6. The Party

Chapter Six

The Party

_"Listen to me, mister. You're my knight in shining armor. Don't forget it."  
>~On Golden Pond<em>

* * *

><p>Slughorn's Halloween Party was sure to be the stuff of legends. Word was that he had booked the band 'The Singing Skeletons,' (Which were, in fact, skeletons that sang). Something around fifty of the older students had been invited, and the non-student guest list was extensive and full of famous names. It was rumored that the headless hunt would be attending, and plus the fact that he had decided to go the whole hog and make it a costume party, pretty much guaranteed it'd be one hell of a time.<p>

I had received one of the little purple-sashed invitations, of course, I was one of Slughorn's favorites. Being the second best student in our year does have its advantages. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to go.

It wasn't that the party sounded un-inviting. No, it was the guest list that held my concerns. A certain red-head was sure to be in attendance, and she had been avoiding me since . . . well, since we kissed. And I had told her I loved her.

Rose had been completely ignoring me. No, not just cold-shouldering, that would have been better if she were only just snubbing me. No. It was like I didn't exist. The only time she ever acknowledged my presence was if we were in a room alone together. She would look around the room, notice we were alone, give me a terrified glance, and dart out.

It was heart-breaking.

I had stopped trying to get her attention after the first week. I had stopped smiling at her the second. And by the third week I was ignoring her just as effectively as she was ignoring me. It hurt, I won't pretend my heart didn't break my heart every time her eyes slid over me like I was part of the wall, but I dealt with it. I dealt with it, perhaps, better than I had anything before.

But my heart ached, everyday, seeing her, that wonderful kiss playing and re-playing itself in my head like a broken record. I did not even notice that every once and a while she would stare at me, pain and misery etched on her face. If I had noticed it, I definitely wouldn't have been so depressed, because it meant she was just as miserable as I was. Not that I was happy making her miserable, but I was a Slytherin, after all. And if being in Slytherin teaches you anything it's that you look after old number one before anyone else. And it would have meant that she felt something for me.

Which was thrilling, but it could never happen.

The day of the party dawned before I was ready for it. Mentally ready. I had my costume and everything, though it wasn't very inventive. I didn't have a lot of energy to put in the effort to win best-costume. I was just a wizard. I put on the pointy hat and everything. Granted, it was my school hat, and my school robes . . . but that's got to count for something, right? Right. Whatever.

Anyway, the party started at eight, so I thought I might saunter down there at around eight-thirty like everyone else so as to avoid the pre-party goers, and Slughorn asking me to help with the decorations. Ugh. No way.

Slughorn's office was pretty crowded by the time I got there. The party had even spread to the corridor outside his office. Orange and black streamers were draped everywhere. There were plenty of Vampires, Princesses, Knights, Witches, and people dressed like Dumbledore. A troupe of giggly girls had all dressed up as sexy cats or some such thing. They really looked a bit ridiculous.

Once I entered the office, the variety of costumes increased, but I won't go into that. There was only one costume that mattered to me. Rose Weasley was sitting on of the tables with her usual gang.

And she looked _hot_.

I don't know what she was, but I was glad she decided to dress as it. She had on a short, simple cut, very shiny, flowy gold dress, with a thin gold mask and headband. I think I felt my jaw drop.

"Hey, move! You're blocking up the door, jackass!"

I looked behind me to make an angry retort, but the person had already pushed past me and into the office. I didn't catch who it was. Bastard.

Scowling and trying to look anywhere but at Rose, I moved deeper into the crowd of people to look for Slughorn. And I found him standing next to none other than Harry Potter. Shit. And Slughorn had already noticed me.

"Why if it isn't Mr. Malfoy!" shouted Slughorn. I think he might have already been inebriated. "Come here, come here, m'boy!"

I moved to stand in front of him and tried very hard not to look annoyed. Or give Harry Potter a dirty look. He was currently surveying me, as if sizing me up. I felt somewhat like I was being X-Rayed. Whatever that was. He had a glass of firewhiskey in his hand and his glasses were somewhat lopsided.

"Harry, this is Scorpius Malfoy. Have you ever met Harry Potter, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No," I uttered stiffly. Harry Potter stuck out his hand, and I shook it. One shake, and then we dropped hands quickly and looked away. Slughorn was perfectly oblivious to our discomfort.

"Mr. Malfoy here is very gifted, Harry! Second-best only to your niece, Rose Weasley. Mr. Potter here has plenty of contacts at the ministry, Scorpius, or anywhere else you would like a job." Maybe it was just me, but Harry looked annoyed with Slughorn. I didn't blame him. "Isn't it your ambition to become an Auror?" Harry Potter looked a little shocked at that and looked at me with renewed interest.

"I was considering it, yes," I answered.

"Well, Harry here is head of the department! Why don't I let you two get to know each other, while I go visit with the minister over here."

And Slughorn disappeared in the throng of guests, leaving me alone with friggin' _Harry Potter_.

"So," said Potter. I forced myself to look up at him. "You're thinking of being an Auror?"

"A bit, yeah," I said. "But I'm not sure. There's a few other things I'm considering."

"Really? Like what?"

Like trying to get away from forced schmoozing sessions.

"I don't know, there's plenty of other options. Like Healing, or I could work for Gringotts. Maybe even Magical Law."

"Magical Law? My sister-in-law, Hermione Weasley, works in that department."

Great. Just great. We were treading awful close to a subject that I didn't want to discuss with anyone, let alone the uncle of said subject.

"Really?" I said. "What-?"

"Well, what did I tell you, Harry, very bright, isn't he?" Slughorn had reappeared in the nick of time.

"Yes," said Harry distractedly. "Very bright."

"Well, I'm glad you two could get a chance to meet each other! Harry have you met Alfred Butler over here?"

And Slughorn dragged Harry off. It was quite obvious that he was parading him around like a show horse.

The night wore on, and with the excessive amounts of drink on the buffet table it was no wonder things had started to get a little rowdy. Most of the important adults had taken leave. A scuffle had taken place and they had both been dragged out by an irate-looking Filch. A couple of boys were smoking on the veranda, and the group of giggly girls were doing a bit of dirty dancing with their male counterparts. A vampire, a real vampire, was chatting up one of the woman with a hungry look on his face. The Singing Skeletons had taken a break, and the Stereo had been turned up to an almost unbearable amount of noise.

I had lost track of Rose in the crowd, and it made me nervous. I don't know why, my rational mind told me she would be fine, she was with her cousins, surely they wouldn't let anything happen to her? But my instincts, that strange seer-ish part of me that only had to do with Rose, was screaming for me to find her. Something didn't feel right. I tried to ignore it, because it was probably just my imagination.

But as the darkness outside became more absolute, and I didn't see hide nor hair of her, even though her cousins were in plain sight, making out with their girlfriends or joining the group of smoking boys. Slughorn had passed out in his favorite armchair, his hand buried in the box of crystalized pineapple resting on his smoking jacket. I started to get worried. I left the office, and looked in the corridors, where the party had spread into several empty classrooms. I checked my watch, it read ten-forty-two. Surely she hadn't gone to bed yet. Normally she was the life and soul of the party. Where was she? Panic rose in me.

The empty classroom next to Slughorn's was full of students doing things they probably shouldn't have been doing, especially not with Filch prowling around. But then again, I hadn't seen Filch since he had dragged those two fighting boys out earlier. I pushed my way through the mass of dancing, drunken, high people. I couldn't find her.

I had reached a corner. I saw a flash of red hair and tried to get a closer look at it through the shoulders and bobbing heads of those next to me. Something definitely wasn't right. The red hair was down near the ground, and all rational thought left me as I pushed those nearest me out of the way until I reached her. The room was spinning and the flashing lights were brighter than they should have been.

"No . . ."

She was lying on the ground, still as the dead. My heart was thumping in my ears. I rushed to her, feeling her reassuringly warm body. I checked for a pulse. I breathed again when I felt it; though it was much, much slower than it should have been. I won't lie—I was terrified out of my mind.

I knew I had to get her out of here before she got trodden on. No one was paying any attention to her. I hooked an arm around her waist and she groaned. So she was semi-conscious. That made me feel a hell of a lot better. I pulled her up into a standing position and she leaned on me heavily, I was practically carrying her.

"Come on, come on Rosie stay with me . . ."

It was quite difficult to get her out of there. People did get out of my way, but I had to shout at them.

"Come on, we've got to get you to the hospital wing . . ."

"No!" she shouted at me. She looked terrified.

"Well," I said impatiently, "where the hell do you expect me to take you?"

She looked exhausted again. She leaned heavily on me, placed a hand on my chest and gripped it tightly. My heart fluttered.

"I don't care . . ." she whispered, "just not . . . hospital wing . . . parents will kill me . . ."

I understood, but it didn't mean I liked it. Madam Pomfrey could put her back together much better than I could.

"Okay," I muttered, looking around. I shuffled her through the door of the first bathroom I found and locked the door behind me.

She seemed to have passed out again on me. Her dead weight was more than I could support so I picked her up in a child's carry and placed her on the sink. I sighed and looked at her properly for the first time. She looked absolutely terrible. I placed a shaking hand on her cheek. She was as cold as ice. Her hair felt wet and stringy as I brushed it out of her eyes. Her mascara had smeared down under her eyes. She looked terribly pale.

"Oh, Rose," I breathed. "What did you do to yourself?"

I felt her pulse again. It was erratic—too erratic for my liking.

"Okay, think . . ." I knew she had to have been drinking. That was a start. How much she had been drinking, I had no idea. She had seemed sober enough when she was speaking to me. I also knew there had been drugs in that room. I had smelled them. I only hoped it wasn't anything serious. There was some pretty nasty stuff out there.

"Water." That was the only thing I thought I could do for her. Give her lots of water. I didn't have any medical training at all, and I had never had to deal with anything like this. I knew water would help sober her up a bit, though.

"Rose," I said firmly, shaking her slightly. She did not wake. I shook her a little harder. "Rose!"

Her eyes fluttered open, but as soon as I saw them I knew something was wrong. All wrong. Her eyes were not blue—the pupils were yellow—yellow— and dilated so far that only a tiny rim of blue could be seen, and the whites of her eyes were bloodshot. They were open wide.

She suddenly grabbed me around the neck and started giggling loudly, pulling me closer to her face. She struggled to focus on me.

"Who you?" she slurred. "Scorpius! Scorp . . . Scorp . . . Scorpy Malfoy," she said in a sing-song voice.

"Rose," I said, struggling to pull myself away from her so I could talk properly, but whatever she took seemed to give her three times her normal strength.

"Scorp . . . Scorp . . . Scorpy Malfoy . . ."

"Rose! Rose, please, stop!"

I yanked her away from me and gripped her hands so she wouldn't be able to grab me again. She sat there giggling and swinging her feet. If the situation hadn't been so serious it would have been comical.

"Wassamatter Scorp-o?" she tittered, pulling her fingers from my grasp and running them through my hair. I had to try very hard to concentrate and not fall under her lure. She needed me, this wasn't a time to mess around. "You can't handle the truth? Don't you want me?"

"Want you? Wha—What are you talking about?"

"I thought . . . yhou knew . . ." she slurred again, pulling me close so that our lips were an inch apart. "I whant you . . . "

"How could you?" I found myself answering, but my heart skipped hopefully. I had stopped trying to pull myself away. "You've been ignoring me since we kissed."

Her eyes bulged. "That's ahright, wahat did yhou espect me to do? Kiss yhou some more . . . I whant to. . . I think I will . . ."

And she did. Our lips met again in another fiery, drunken kiss, and I lost almost all coherent thought as she wrapped her legs around my waist and started unbuttoning my shirt. My heart was pounding in my chest and I forgot everything, forgot that if she was thinking clearly she never would be doing this . . . I tangled one hand in her hair and the other wandered her body . . .

"Stop . . ." I gasped when we broke away to gasp for breath. She didn't heed my request but instead started kissing my neck. I groaned, half in frustration and half in pleasure.

"Stop, Rose . . . you're drunk . . . stop . . ." it was only with great effort, physical and otherwise, that I pulled myself away from her and backed out of her reach, but when she started to fall I had to rush forward and catch her. I grabbed her chin and forced her to look at me. She wrapped her legs around me again but I forced myself to ignore this. "Rose!" I said harshly. "Look at me! I need you to tell me what you took tonight!"

"I dunno," and she bit her lip in concentration. Even though she looked a mess, it was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. "I drank a lot of firewhiskey . . ."

"I'd figured that out," I said through gritted teeth. Rose was now rolling her hips on a very sensitive area and I couldn't help but be even more distracted as my body responded. I struggled to think. "But—but what . . . did you . . . oh stop that . . ."

She kissed me again, burningly, passionately, and I couldn't think . . . why did she have to make this so hard . . .

"Stop!" I groaned. "Oh Rose . . . oh please . . . stop . . . I have to take care of you . . ."

But she didn't want me to take care of her. What she wanted was very clear to me. She pulled at my pants, unbuckling my belt . . . unbuttoning . . . unzipping . . . and I was aching fit to burst . . .

"Rose, you have to stop . . . you have to stop now . . ."

Now, before I lost all control, before I did something we both would regret, she had to stop. _I_had to stop. I pushed her away, she hit the mirror and it fell off the wall and hit the floor, shattering. I kept her at arm's length, struggling to control myself. The broken glass crunched under my feet. I was breathing very heavily. My heart rate slowed. My head was spinning.

I felt like I was about to black out. The only thing I was aware of was Rose's soft shoulders, my pounding head and heart, the ache between my legs. . .

I opened my eyes and looked at Rose. She was staring at me innocently, her eyes wide, like a doe's. It was that that calmed me more than anything. I felt my heart crumple to my stomach. She was so beautiful.

I stepped closer to her, and she didn't wrap her legs around me again. I touched her cheek, and she leaned into my hand. Her pupils had contracted again, and they weren't yellow anymore, they had turned into a golden brown. That made me feel a bit better.

"Now," I said forcibly, but calmly. "I need you to tell me what you took. I have to take care of you."

"Someone gave me a potion," she muttered.

"Okay, that's a start. What color was it? What did it taste like? Was it smoking? Tell me everything you can remember about it."

"It was yellow," she said faintly, leaning her head into my hand and closing her eyes. "It tasted . . . kinda like . . . grass. It was smoking. The smoke had spirals in it, and it popped, like fireworks . . ."

I had never heard of such a potion, and I was the best in potions. That was the one subject I had frequently beat Rose in.

"Oh, Merlin, Rosie . . ."

She fell towards me, and buried her face in my shoulder. My chest fluttered weakly. I ran my hand through her hair, and I felt her shaking. She felt so warm and wonderful in my arms. We fit perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. I sighed.

"Rosie, was there anything—"

My heart stopped. I had pulled her away from me, and she was limp in my arms. Her eyes were closed, and there was a trickle of blood coming from her mouth. She wasn't breathing.

"No . . . no . . . Rose . . ."

Distantly, as if watching someone else, my hand reached to her neck and felt for a pulse. A whine of panic was filling my ears. She had no pulse.

"NO!_ ROSE! NO!_"

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Hehehe, evil cliffhanger! Muwhahaha! Don't worry I'll update quickly. Don't forget to leave a review!<p> 


	7. You Don't Have to Thank Me

Chapter Seven

You Don't Have to Thank Me

_"You will never know love unless you surrender to it."  
>~Fools Rush In<em>

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><p>The first thing I noticed when I came to was the iodine-like smell of the hospital wing. The next was that I ached everywhere. There was something warm on my left side, and my left hand was wrapped in something soft and tickly. I opened my eyes.<p>

I was definitely in the hospital wing. Though the bright light of early morning nearly blinded me, I could see the dark rafters of the ceiling. There was a soft snoring from my left and I looked around to see none other than Scorpius Malfoy sleeping with his head on my bed.

Reeling in shock and panic, I racked my brains to try and remember what happened to land me in the hospital wing, and why Scorpius was here, but I could not remember anything. It sent me into even more shock when I realized that the thing my hand was wrapped in was Scorpius's hair. Oh shit.

Though I didn't know at all what had happened, why he and I were here, I couldn't help but notice how cute he was asleep. He didn't snore loudly, but it was a soft, reassuring kind of snore. There were crease lines on his forehead and dark shadows under his eyes, but he looked peaceful, none the less.

Cautiously, not wanting to wake him up and get caught, I untangled my hand from his hair and began to slowly run my fingers through it. It was addicting. Soft, thick, and curly blonde, he had such great hair. Little jolts of electricity ran up my fingers every time I touched his scalp. I remembered when we had kissed my hands had automatically shot to his hair. It was like a magnet.

I hesitated for half a second, and then moved my fingers down to his cheek. It was prickly with stubble. It looked like he hadn't shaved in at least two days. I wondered if he had been here with me the whole time.

My heart soared with affection.

Again I tried to remember what had happened. The only thing that came back to me was the beginning of the party. Slughorn's party. That's right. And then what happened . . .

The party got rowdy. I had drank more than a couple of firewhiskeys. . .

And then nothing. It was like I had hit a brick wall in my mind. There was literally nothing there.

Sighing, I turned back to Scorpius. I started to withdraw my hand from his cheek, but his face twitched in protest and his hand shot out to grasp mine. He laid our joined hands on the bed and went back to snoring. I sighed. His hand felt wonderful in mine. Dammit.

"Oh, Scorpius," I whispered, stroking his hand with my thumb. "We just seem to be digging a deeper hole, don't we?"

But maybe it was time to stop resisting.

No. Not yet.

I knew it was going to happen, we were both going to give into each other eventually, but I wasn't ready for it. But really, would I ever be? The consequences of us becoming a couple were too horrible to think about.

But if he kept on, the positives might outweigh the negatives.

How did everything get so messed up? It used to be so simple. I hated him, he hated me. It was easy. I beat him at everything, and he tried to keep up, we played Quidditch, and I beat him at that too. And then we had to go and fall in love with each other. Everything was much, much too complicated.

I reached over with my other hand and ran it through his hair. He stirred a little bit and I froze, terrified he would wake up. But it was too late. His eyes fluttered open and his eyes, which looked like bright diamonds, met mine. They crinkled as he smiled. He looked very relieved.

"You're awake," he grinned. I nodded.

"How long have I been out?" I questioned. "And what are you doing here? What happened?"

His smile faltered, and he noticed our hands. He blushed and we both pulled back at the same time. He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair.

"Well, to answer your first question, you've been out for a day."

"A _day_?" I groaned. It was a good thing that it was the weekend, or I would have missed classes. "What the _hell_happened?"

Now he was really frowning. He was thinking, troubled. Whatever happened must have been bad. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

"You don't remember?" he asked.

"No," I replied. Was that a look of relief on his face?

"You took a potion," he said. "And it wasn't meant for your health."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that it was a mind-altering potion, and too much of it. It was illegal. What it was doing at a school party . . . I don't know why you took it, and I don't know who gave it to you, but if I did, they would be dead."

There was such a fierce, angry, protective look in his eyes that I didn't doubt it. I felt my eyes well up. Why was I crying?

"Oh, Scorpius . . ."

He looked at me, and the murderous anger died and was replaced with a very soft look. Gently he took my hand, almost, it seemed, without noticing it. I did not draw away, and the tears I had been fighting back spilled from my eyes. He gave my hand a squeeze. I turned my head away from him and wiped my eyes. He did not speak, giving me time to compose myself.

"So why are you here?" I finally whispered.

"Because I'm the one who found you. I was worried sick about you. You had technically been dead for two minutes, before I got you up here and Madam Pomfrey saved your life."

I sat in shock. I had been _dead_? And he couldn't mention this before? I had almost dismissed what he said before, because I had been _dead?_

"But you're awake now, and alive, and you're going to be okay. That's all that matters."

Was it just me, or did he look like he was hiding something? There was something forced in his smile.

"You're hiding something," I said. "What else happened?"

His smile faltered. "Nothing."

"You're lying."

He hung his head, letting go of my hand and rubbing his face.

"You don't want to know," he whispered, his voice full of anguish. "I don't want you to know."

"I think I have a right to know!" I said resentfully.

"Dammit Rose!" he raised his head, and looked at me with piercing eyes. "I'm trying to protect you!"

"From _what?_" I said scathingly.

"From _yourself!_"

There was a stunned silence. I blinked furiously, trying to work out what he said.

"Why would you protect me from myself?" I asked, confused.

"Because you did things . . ." he whispered, and he was no longer looking at me, and I could tell he was a long way away. "Things I don't want you to know you did. I was the only one that was there, and the only person who can be embarrassed or ashamed is me."

"What did you do?" I said, prodding, knowing I would get him to tell me eventually with honey instead of vinegar.

"I stopped you," he muttered, massaging his temples. "Stopped you from doing something we would both regret."

I gasped. I had finally understood what he was saying.

"What . . . what did I do to you?" I asked, horrified.

He looked up at me, and looked scared. Scared. That was never good.

"You . . . you kissed me," he seemed unwilling to go on.

"And?" I prodded.

"And . . . and you told me you wanted me. And proved it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you were crawling all over me. Do you want details?"

Yes, yes I very much wanted details. Didn't he understand what a big deal this was? If I had done something less than ladylike, I wanted to know about it, dammit!

He seemed to guess what I was thinking, because he opened his mouth before I could respond.

"We didn't do it," he said shortly, "if that's what you're wanting to know. The worst that happened was you undid my pants."

I digested this for a second.

"I came very, very close to losing control," he murmured, almost to himself. "Too close. You have no idea the hold you have over me."

My heart exploded in flutters, and a hard lump rose in my throat. I felt tears spring to my eyes again.

"Scorp," I whispered, sitting up. I placed a hand under his chin, making him look up at me. Our eyes met and I felt spellbound. "Scorp . . ." It was very clear to me just how guilty he felt. I felt terrible for causing this. He had saved me, saved my life, even though I had ignored him for the past month. He didn't deserve my horrible treatment of him.

My other hand found its way to his hair. He closed his eyes, and I felt my heart melt. I stroked his hair, and lowered my face to his, resting my forehead on his. I did not kiss him. He didn't want or need me to kiss him. All he needed was my love, whether he knew I loved him or not. His fingers tangled in my hair, and he sighed. He smiled slightly, so I knew that sigh was of happiness. No matter how slim, it made me pleased that I had made him smile.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. His eyes snapped open and he looked angry.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly, though I felt the danger brewing beneath the surface. I didn't want to fight with him. "It's that bastard who gave you that drink—that's whose fault it is. You're not to blame and don't feel sorry. I can feel guilty enough for both of us."

He had such a fierce look in his eye that I did not dare contradict him. Even though I felt guilty anyway. Oh, dear.

"I feel so, so awful for letting this happen to you." He seemed to be talking to himself again, and was looking down, not at me, even though our faces were an inch apart. "I knew . . . I knew something was wrong . . . and I ignored it . . . I should have been there . . . how I could have let this happen . . ."

I did not know what to say. It was so cute, the way he fretted over me.

"Scorpius?" I said softly. He looked me in the eyes again and his hands tightened on my head, like he didn't want to let me go. "Thank you." He blinked and inhaled sharply. It was clear he was not expecting me to say thank you. I smirked. He should know I had better manners than that. "Thank you for saving my life."

His eyes filled with wonder and astonishment. "You don't have to thank me."

"What?"

"It's what I'm here for. To take care of you. Besides," he smiled, like he was joking, though his eyes indicated he was dead serious. It was amazing how I could read him like a book. "It much more selfish than it was selfless. Life wouldn't be worth living without you in it."

My heart skipped a beat. I knew he didn't say it to be romantic or try and make me swoon, but it did. He meant it. He was serious and sincere. He said it because it had slipped out, which, in a way, made it all that more wonderful.

I couldn't help it. It was like I was drawn towards him. He licked his lips in anticipation, his smile had disappeared, his lips parted, his breath short. I kissed him.

This was different than our first kiss, or those kisses that I couldn't remember but could imagine . . . it was soft and gentle, but no less passionate. Neither of us drew away, neither of us wanted to stop. It was the most beautiful, heart-breaking kiss.

And I realized just how much I loved him; how pointless it was to try to resist. Even though I could do it if I wanted, I didn't want to. Life was cold and empty without him. I wanted him, and his actions proved that he wanted—needed—me. It felt so good.

When our lips finally parted to draw breath, we did not break away from each other. He rose from his chair and sat on my bed, and held me. I rested my head on his shoulder, my breath tickling his neck, and his arms wrapped around my waist.

"I don't ever want to lose you again," he whispered. I said nothing, but only buried my face in his neck. "I'm tired of pretending. It's pointless. It's stupid and childish. The only thing that matters is you, and damn the consequences. I love you too much."

I didn't feel the slightest bit of panic at the words. I felt so comforted, so warm, so happy, when he said that. I didn't even feel pressured to say it back. He knew I loved him. But I wanted to tell him anyway. He deserved that much from me.

"I love you, too," I murmured. I raised my head to look at him, and he looked a little surprised, but pleased. So maybe he didn't know I loved him. He needed to know, needed reassurance. I saw that in his eyes. "I love you so much it hurts. I feel the same way you do, only I'm not brave enough, and I don't have the energy, to put it in such fancy words."

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. "Was that a joke?"

"Yes, yes it was."

He grinned.

Madam Pomfrey came in to check on me, and, upon finding me awake, immediately started fussing. She had me take three different potions and checked my temperature twice. She listened to my pulse for a minute and shined a very bright light in my eyes with the tip of her wand. Even though she declared I was fit, she made me stay in the hospital wing for another day.

"You need rest!" she declared, shouting down my protests. "And you'll stay right there and take your potions, or I shall call the headmistress."

Scorpius sat in the corner, not supporting me at all and trying to hold back his laughter. I glared at him and flipped him off when Madam Pomfrey had turned her back.

"Mr. Malfoy," the nurse turned to him, which wiped the smirk off his face. "If you're going to stay here, you're going to make yourself useful. Go get Ms. Weasley some food from the kitchens, and I'll need your help with some paperwork when you get back." It was my turn to start laughing.

Madam Pomfrey gathered up the empty potion bottles and bustled back into her office, shutting the door behind her. Scorpius walked back towards me and tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away.

"You've got some nerve," I said jokingly. He smiled a cocky, lopsided grin at me. It was so cute.

I let him kiss me, and he strode down the ward, whistling something that sounded very much like "A-Hunting We Will Go." He turned at the door and saluted, making me giggle, and he smiled at me before shutting the door silently behind him. I had never seen him so happy, and I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel wonderful, knowing it was me that caused it.

The first of my family to arrive was Albus.  
>"Why do you look so happy?" was the first thing he asked. No, I didn't even get a 'how are you feeling?' or 'are you alright?' no, it was, 'what the hell do you have to be so friggin' happy about?'<p>

I promised to tell him later, as Hugo, Roxy, and James, and Lily had just walked in. They were happy to see me awake and happy. Though no one knew exactly what had happened besides Scorpius, the rumor was that I had been poisoned at the party. They promised to keep what really happened secret when I told them, especially from our parents, though I knew they would find out anyway, because Madam Pomfrey would tell them.

Of course, I only told them the basics, I did not want to share what Scorpius said I had done to him. That was between us, and us alone. I didn't want my family to know that we were now seeing each other, (if that was what it was,) either. I was too scared and tired to deal with their reactions.

I hadn't seen him since he had brought me my food. I figured he thought it would be best to make himself scarce, and let me be with my family. I was very grateful for this.

My parents arrived sometime later, having received an owl from Madam Pomfrey. My mother worried herself sick, throwing herself on me and kissing me and crying and fussing worse than the school nurse. She sat next to me once my dad told her to calm down, but she still smoothed the blankets, and sat there sniffing.

My dad didn't hug me like mum, in fact, he hung back. When mum had finally moved I saw his eyes, and knew I was in big trouble. Madam Pomfrey must have told them what happened. He looked angrier than I had ever seen him. The tips of his ears were red, like a warning beacon, everyone knew when he was about to blow a gasket.

He was silent for too long, and it scared me. I had expected him to start screaming. This cold silence was more than I could bear.

"D-daddy?" I said tentatively. He grunted, not looking at me. "I-I'm sorry, daddy."

Dad raised his head, and mum looked between us, frightened. The guilt sunk deeper.

"What are you sorry for, honey?" he whispered dangerously. I knew it was rhetorical and so I didn't answer. "Are you sorry for nearly getting yourself killed? For drinking something a stranger gave you, for drinking at all?" His eyes flashed dangerously. I had never seen him so mad, though his voice had been forced calm, it rose in volume and I could tell he was losing control of his cool exterior. My mother put a hand on my leg, warning me not to rise, to just let him get it all out. "Or are you sorry because you've made me feel like the worst parent in the world?"

"You're not—" I started to protest, but my mother threw me a warning look.

"I thought we had raised you better. I thought you were smarter than that."

"Daddy—" I could feel the tears coming but he didn't stop. He laughed humorlessly.

"Or," he continued, staring at my tears and not looking one bit sorry. "Maybe you did this just to spite me. Is this your way of telling me you don't love me? That you don't care? That everything I've taught you doesn't matter one whit to you?"

"Daddy!" I gasped, the tears flowing freely now. "Of course I love . . . how could you say . . . ?"

"I'm disappointed in you."

That stung.

My mother didn't say anything in my defense. She knew I deserved every harsh word he said to me. She still had her hand on my leg, and was gripping it tightly. I knew she was crying. I felt so, so guilty. I wanted to bury my head in my arms, but I didn't want him to think I was weak.

My dad opened his mouth again, but my mother stepped in this time before he could say anything.

"Ron!" she said harshly. "That's enough!"

Dad scowled, and, without another word, without looking at me, he strode from the ward, like Scorpius had that morning, but instead of closing the door softly, he slammed it. I burst into tears and buried my head in my arms. I felt my mothers' embrace, though I did not feel I deserved the comfort she gave me.

"I-I'm s-so s-sorry mum . . ." I sobbed. I felt I had to apologize, had to get rid of some of the guilt. She didn't say anything to me, but continued to rub my back and stroke my hair.

She held me while I cried. It seemed like I had done more crying in the past month than I had ever done in my life. When I had finally hiccupped myself into silence, my mother pulled away from me and tucked my hair behind my ear.

"Oh, Rosie," she whispered. "Why?"

"I d-don't know. I can't remember. I'm so s-sorry, mum."

"Stop that, Rosie. Don't grovel. I forgave you long before you said sorry. I only wish this hadn't happened. If you had been in your right mind I know you never would have taken it, which is why you should never drink in excess. I don't know what you were thinking . . ."

I gulped. I did. I knew perfectly well what I was thinking, and it wasn't of the consequences. I thought that if I had drank enough I could forget Scorpius. But I couldn't tell my mother that.

But she looked at me like she knew.

"I'm glad Scorpius Malfoy was there to save you," I felt my eyes widen and I buried my head in my arms again so she couldn't see my face. But she knew. Mothers always know, even If you don't show all your cards. I didn't know that then, though. I seriously thought I had dodged a bullet. "He seems like a nice young man."

And that was all she said about it. Now I know she was giving me her approval, but back then I didn't have a clue.

We were quiet for a while, me trying to completely dry my eyes, and my mum staring out the window and occasionally patting my back.

"Is dad alright?" I ventured to say after a while. Mum looked around like she had forgotten I was there. She sighed once my question had registered.

"Yes, he'll be alright. He always just needs a bit of alone time after he gets frustrated to cool down. He'll be fine. You scared him, sweetheart. He hasn't had to deal with anything like this since the war."

I felt another twinge of guilt.

"You're his little girl. I know he keeps going over what could have happened, and it terrifies him. He just wants to make sure you never do anything like this again, because he—we—couldn't deal with losing you."

That sounded familiar . . .

"But the good thing is that you're alive, and well, and you're never going to do anything like that again, right?" she suddenly gave me a stern look that reminded me of Professor McGonagall.

I nodded my head. "No, I won't, mum, I promise."

"Good." And she looked satisfied. "Well, if you'll be alright, I'll leave you to get some more rest, while I go find your father before he gets himself into trouble." She kissed me on the temple and gave me a tight hug. "We'll be back later, honey. But you need to get some rest for now."

And she followed the path of Scorpius and her husband, and closed the door softly behind her.

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><p><strong>AN:**_ The plot is thickening, yes? Who gave Rose the drink? Was it on purpose? Is there something bigger going on here than just a little bit of romance? You'll find out, won't you? Hehehe!  
>Oh, and yes, that "You don't have to thank me" bit, yeah, that was definitely from batman. When I typed it I knew I'd heard it before, and then just recently I watched The Dark Knight again (Heath Ledger as the Joker was so awesome. RIP) and I realized where I'd heard it. And it also gave me some more ideas for this story, so, yay!<br>Anyway, I'm blathering on a bit too much, so I'll shut up now.  
>Don't be shy! Post a review!<em>


	8. Protection

Chapter Eight

Protection

_"We will find out who's trying to kill you, Padme. I promise".  
>~Star Wars<em>

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><p><em>"YOU BLITHERING IDIOT!"<em>

"M-my Lord, it was not my fault . . . please . . . NO!"

_"CRUCIO!"_a terrible scream rent the room. "Do you honestly think that I want to listen to your pathetic excuses?"

The servant lay panting on the floor, and the man he had called 'Lord' approached him, pointing his wand, his face contorted into a furious rage.

"M-my Lord . . . p-please, please . . ."

"You were supposed to keep her there! You were supposed to give her the potion and watch her! Instead you decided to get drunk! You've ruined my plans, you stupid, fat bastard! _Crucio!"_

Another ear-renting scream.

"P-please, my Lord . . ." the servant clutched his chest. "It was the Malfoy boy . . ."

"He never would have had a chance to save her if you had done what you were supposed to do!"

"M-my Lord, p-please forgive me . . ."

"SHUT UP! Or I shall find someone to replace you and keep your body as a reminder to them!"

The servant's eyes opened wide and he shut his mouth tight, kneeling towards his master.

Neither man spoke for a long moment. The Lord started pacing.

"I must think what to do. You have set me back a ways. Though the situation is not unsalvageable . . . get out of my sight."

The servant shakily stood and bowed his way out of the room.

"I will succeed," the man whispered fervently. "I will do what that Dark Lord failed to do, and more. I will kill Harry Potter, and then . . . then the world will be mine."

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><p>The next few weeks were the happiest I had felt in a very long time. It was pure bliss. Who knew that Rose overdosing would be the catalyst that would send us into the rest of our lives, together? It was unprecedented. It was remarkable. It was a miracle. And it was the happiest I had ever felt to that date.<p>

We would spent hours together. Talking, studying, kissing, laughing . . . it was wonderful. It was more than I ever dared hope. I had finally gotten what I had wanted for years, and I had never dreamed that she could feel just as strongly as I did.

Little did we know a storm was brewing, that all hell was about to break lose, and that we were going to be in the middle of it all. I felt it, I remember. I remember feeling something didn't seem quite right. Something was changing, events bigger than ourselves were happening, I could feel it.

I never discussed these feelings with Rose. I didn't want to worry her. Not after what had happened during Halloween. I kept things as light as possible, though sometimes she seemed to know something was bothering me. Thankfully, she never brought it up.

Determined as I was to protect Rose from further harm, I had put aside all past grudges, and spoke to Harry Potter.

His interests aligned with mine, and he was as determined as I was to keep her safe. As he could not be at Hogwarts and he did not want to arouse suspicion, he appointed me as her protectorate, after we spoke about me joining the Auror department. I was assigned the rank of Junior Auror, though unofficially, and not on-record. The whole thing was confidential, and it was kept between the two of us. Even Rose herself did not know that I was her bodyguard.

Because of my position, Mr. Potter (giggle if you want, but that's what I had to call him; he WAS, after all, my boss now) taught me certain defensive spells that I would not have known till I would have finished Auror training, and effectively he_ had _started my training, given the fact I was given different lessons and routines I had to follow every day. I was on my own, for the most part, but every few weeks he would drop in on the pretense of checking on Rose to check on my progress.

All in all, it wasn't a bad deal. If working out and staying up late every night working was what it took to keep Rose safe, then it was worth it. Anything was worth it.

We knew that the potion someone had given her wasn't an isolated incident. Mr. Potter (I don't think I've ever gotten used to calling him that) had started an investigation into the incident, though we had made little progress.

Thanks to me, we had recovered the goblet she had drunk from. Luckily there was a tablespoon sized amount left in the goblet, and with my description of the way it had affected Rose, the Auror team had been able to discover that the potion was unlike anything there had ever been seen before. It must have been a new invention.

So, we made a list of possible people who were good enough potion makers to invent something like this, and all the options we came up with were either not anywhere near Scotland, not capable, dead, or not in the right position. So we had hit a dead end.

The potion itself, it seems, had been designed to take complete control over Rose, without her or anyone else noticing it. We were scared it had worked, but it seemed that for some reason the potion had not been in her system long enough to take effect, whether it had been because of the amount of drinks she consumed, Madam Pomfrey expelling the potion from her, or for some other, unknown reason, we did not know. Rose was infinitely thankful her mind was still her own when her uncle told her this.

So, with the lack of further information, the investigation came to little more than a standstill. The only thing we could do was wait.

As you can probably predict, I wasn't too happy with this.

_"Wait?_ Wait for_ what? _For her to be attacked again? For someone else to be attacked? That's not good enough, dammit!"

Harry (I'd given up on calling him Mr. Potter except for to his face,) gave me a bit of a sympathetic look.

"I agree," he said, looking around to see if anyone was watching, "but keep your voice down."

I imitated him, looking around, but there was no one near us from where we stood in a deserted corridor.

"Is there anything we can do_ besides _wait?"

"We can be on our guard, and prevent anything from happening before it does, even if by a split second. I'm depending on you, here. It's going to be up to you to catch whoever tries to hurt her, because you're going to be the only one near her all the time. You're basically our spy. You need to gather any information that you can, it might be relevant to the case."

"I don't like it," I frowned.

"Nor do I," he said seriously, "but without further information, it's the only plan we've got. I guarantee you, the moment we can, we'll stop using her as bait. I'm counting on you here, Scorpius. Don't let anything happen to her."

He looked me dead in the eye, as if he could see right through me. Like an X-Ray (whatever that was). It was a bit unnerving.

"I won't, sir," I said, returning his look with a ferocity that surprised even myself. "I swear I won't let anything happen to her."

Appearing satisfied, he nodded, and walked away. I remained where I was, shaken slightly, but determined.

Time passed without incident, however. November rolled into December, and as the snow started to fall, making the castle look like iced gingerbread, my relationship with Rose grew deeper, and, though we tried to keep it a secret, it was inevitable that some of Rose's family would find out. Her cousin Albus knew, he couldn't have been happier for us, it seemed, and he and I became fast friends.

I couldn't tell you how nice it was to finally have a friend who actually gave a damn about me.

But when her other cousin Roxy found out, she wouldn't speak to Rose for two weeks after, until she realized that Rose and I were not going to break up anytime soon, and then she became a bit less icy towards us.

Rose's brother threatened to tell the rest of the family just for the hell of it, but after Rose threatened to tell the whole school of the time she found him apparently dressed up in his mother's clothes, he kept his mouth shut.

And though the rest of her family was extensive, only Lily and James also found out. And though James threatened to beat me into a pulp if I hurt her, he seemed otherwise okay with it. And the only one of her many uncles and aunts only Harry knew. Her parents knew nothing at all.

"I know I'm going to have to tell them eventually," she said one day in the library. "I just don't know if I can face it. My dad would kill me."

I raised my eyebrows. "That's a little extreme," I muttered. She giggled and I grinned.

"You didn't see him after Halloween," she said, scratching out a sentence in her essay. "It was awful."

Though see did not try to betray her emotions, her hands shook and I saw a slight sheen appear in her eyes. I took her hand, she shook herself a bit and the soon-to-be tears disappeared. She smiled at me.

"Rose," she squeezed my hand in acknowledgement. "It'll be okay."

"I hope so," she whispered. Then she sighed, let go of my hand and leaned back in her chair, running her hands over her face. "Let's just . . . run away together . . . then we wouldn't have to deal with any of this bullshit."

I couldn't help but close my eyes and smile as my fantasies overtook reality for a second. But eventually I had to come back.

"As much as that appeals to me, I don't think that would solve our problems."

"No," she said, picking her quill up again. "You're probably right."

We were silent for a while, with no sound but the scratching of her quill and I turning the pages of my book.

"Scorp?" she whispered after a while.

"Mhm?" I pulled myself out of my book, which wasn't that hard to do, as it was history of magic.

"I—" She cut herself off and changed topic. "Does the size of my family scare you?"

I raised my eyebrow. "Should it?"

"Maybe a little. It is very large." Her smile did not quite reach her eyes. "They scare me sometimes."

"You?"

"Yes! Does that seem strange?"

"Not really," I said. "I admit, your family does intimidate me a little bit, but that's because I don't think I can fend them all off at once."

Then she really smiled.

"What are you laughing about?" I teased, "I'm serious! I can see them all coming at me with pitchforks. Well, except maybe Albus."

She shook her head, giggling.

"I might be able to fight them three at a time, but I'd be exhausted by the time I got to the end of them."

"Oh, ha ha . . ."

She gave me a playful push. Grinning, I retaliated by tickling her, and she squirmed away, trying to fend me off.

"Oh, stop, stop!" she wheezed, breathless. I stopped immediately and held her gently, waiting for her to catch her breath. Once she did, I swooped on her, kissing her until_ I_was light-headed. She pulled away, cupping my cheek with her hand. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment.

"I love you," I breathed.

"And I you," she whispered.

"Rose," I said after a pause. "You have no idea how happy you've made me."

I opened my eyes, and she looked slightly dazed, but her eyes begun to shine brightly.

"Yes I do," she responded. "Because I feel the same."

I ran my hand through the softness of her hair, breathing in her scent, then kissed her softly.

"Every day that we spend together," I murmured, wondering in the wisdom of what I was about to say, but dismissed it. "I fall more and more in love with you. I think I've already passed over how far I thought it could go." I thought of my mission to protect her, my fear of someone attacking her, if I failed . . . there was so much at stake. "I don't want to lose you," I said, my voice shaking.

She frowned, studying me, trying to read me, and I didn't know if I wanted to let her or not, so I half-heartedly tried to conceal my feelings. She was not so easily fooled, however.

"What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," I lied, lowering my eyes.

"Don't lie. Something's been bothering you for a while, I just haven't been able to figure out what it is, so spit it out. I want to know. I want to help you."

"I don't know if you can."

She looked so confused I felt sympathetic.

"What do you mean?"

"It's . . . nothing. I can do it on my own. I can't tell you."

"You can do_ what_ on your own exactly?" she said, slipping her hands from my neck, leaving the skin there feeling remarkably cold. Her eyes narrowed and I felt like I was sailing into dangerous waters. "_What_can't you tell me?"

"Uhh . . . just, um . . ." I said, backpedaling as fast as I could think. "Nothing, nothing at all, don't worry about it. It's just, um . . . I haven't got you a Christmas present yet?"

This last excuse, I thought, would have been pretty genius if I had delivered it better. My god I was a bad liar.

"Don't bullshit me, Scorpius Malfoy! What's going on? I'm not stupid, I know there's something going on here, you've been acting funny ever since Uncle Harry came to Hogwarts the second time after I got poisoned. And I _know_ he doesn't visit just to check on me, he could send one of his goons or ask one of my many cousins. _And_ the fact that whenever he disappears while he's here, _you're_ never to be found either? Riddle me _that_one, Batman!"

"Who's Batman?"

"A muggle cartoon character, never _mind!"_ she seemed even angrier that I had put her off the subject. "It's not important. What _is_ important is that you tell me what the _hell_is going on!"

Her voice had raised to an almost unnatural pitch and her eyes burned. Damn, I'd forgotten how sexy she was when she was angry with me. We hadn't argued much since we got together.

_Crap, crap, crap!_ I couldn't tell her my mission. If I did, she would probably slap me silly and then go give Harry a thing or two. Plus Harry would be disappointed that I couldn't keep my mission confidential. Shit. If I_ didn't,_ I was likely to face an angry girlfriend until I _did_ tell her, and that would not be a pleasant experience_ at all._ Or I could lie to her. Considering the other options, it sounded pretty good, but the fact that my ability to lie well did not extend to _her_pretty much ruled that out.

"Dammit, alright! Fine! Keep your head on! I can't tell you here, though."

She seemed a little calmer, but it was quite obvious I was still on her bad side.

"And why is _that_exactly?"

Annoyed, I looked around to make sure that no one was around, then cast _Muffliato,_a spell Harry taught me.

Still, I wasn't confident in my ability to cast the spell, so I still leaned in. She mirrored me.

"It's confidential," I whispered, as quietly as I could.

"_Confi-?"_she started to shout. Instinct taking over, I grabbed her and slapped my hand over her mouth. She gave me a very dirty look.

_"Shhh!" _

She licked my palm.

"Eurgh!" I pulled my hand away from her mouth and wiped it on my trousers. She looked very smug, and almost immediately started to rant against me in a whisper.

"What, have you joined the_ secret service _or something? What the_ hell?_ What's _confidential?_I swear to Merlin . . ."

Her mix of muggle and magical phrases, under other circumstances, would have given me a pretty good laugh, but, as it was, I ignored her and hastily packed up our stuff, threw her her cloak, shoved my arms in mine, and grabbed her hand, leading her out of the library.

I hurtled into the first empty classroom I could find, locking the door and once again casting_ Muffliato._Exhaling, I turned to face her. She looked angry and anxious, but was waiting patiently while sitting on the desk. After checking the door was secured twice and glancing my eyes to the ceiling to make sure Peeves wasn't there, I walked towards her.

"Now, tell me what the_ hell_is going on."

"I'm your bodyguard," I said, without preamble.

_"What?"_

Maybe I should have put that a little more delicately.

"Your bodyguard. I'm to protect you and prevent anything from happening to you while keeping an eye out for anything suspicious."

She was quiet for a very long time. She was not looking at me, but a point over my right shoulder. I could tell that her temper was building the longer she sat there, yet I did not dare say anything.

After what felt like a very long time, she looked at me again, her eyes filled with a fiery ice.

* * *

><p>"So," I said dangerously, my voice barely more than a whisper. I didn't think he'd ever seen me this angry. It gave me a bit of sick, perverse pleasure to see how terrified he was.<em> "So.<em> So you're some . . . some bodyguard_ spy_for the Aurors, sent to protect me from some invisible danger—"

"No! This is seri—"

"DON'T INTERRUPT ME!" I shouted, sparks flying from the end of my wand, which I had unconsciously drew.

He looked cowed, and I did not allow my guilt to stop me. Pausing to take several deep breaths, I continued.

"What makes you think I _need_protecting?"

It was a serious question, as well as a warning, but if he did not answer I was going to give him more than a piece of my mind.

There was a moments silence, and then, when he realized it wasn't a rhetorical question, he gulped, and thought for a few moments.

"Wh—what happened at Halloween wasn't an accident."

"I already knew that."

"Yes, I knew you did, I was just clarifying."

_"I DON'T NEED YOU TO CLARIFY THINGS—"_

_"Would you let me finish, woman!"_

I had to admit, I was impressed he had the balls to stand up to me just then, and it was that that subdued my temper a little. He took a calming breath, and then continued.

"I was worried for your safety. We knew this wasn't an isolated attack, we thought there'd be more—"

"And you were right," said a voice in the doorway.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Muhuhahaha! Cliffhanger again! I'm so proud of myself when things work out like that! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Things are heating up, yes? It's no longer just about romance. (honestly, my favorite romances have always been the ones in action/ syfy/ fantasy movies/books, is that weird?) Anywho . . . This is the second time I've made a batman reference. It's not on purpose, I swear, lol. Batman's awesome, though, so I forgive myself, haha. Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and tell me what you think by leaving a review!  
>~gfg<em>


	9. A Mentor

Chapter Nine

A Mentor

_"Life is a storm, my young friend. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into that storm and shout as you did in Rome. Do your worst, for I will do mine! Then the fates will know you as we know you: as Albert Mondego, the man!"  
>~The Count of Monte Cristo<em>

* * *

><p>Before I had time to do anything more than gasp, Scorpius had whipped his wand out and thrown himself in front of me.<p>

_"STUPE—"_

_"REDUCTO!"_

The desk behind me blasted apart, scattering Scorpius and I with shattered bits of wood and metal while we ducked. Blinded and terrified, I groped for Scorpius, who was shouting spells I could not make out through the ringing in my ears. Finally I made out the back of his robes and held them with a death grip. Thankfully my wand had remained in my hand, but it was useless as long I was blinded, for I could not find the target.

"Scorpius . . . Scorpius . . ." I whispered, almost like a prayer, blinking rapidly and rubbing my eyes clear with my wand hand.

When I pulled my fist away I could see blurry shapes, and there was a terrible pain in my left eye, but I could see well enough to find the squat, round shape that was our attacker.

As he was not expecting an attack from me, I had the advantage. Before anyone realized it, I aimed my wand around Scorpius and shouted,

_"STUPEFY!"_

The man did not have time to block it, and fell like a rag doll. Scorpius and I stood there in shock, shaking. Holding tightly to my hand, Scorpius trotted over to our attacker and turned him over with his foot. Though all I saw were blurry shapes, the man seemed somewhat familiar, as though he were a subject of a forgotten dream.

"Sco—" I began to say, but he shushed me and, after looking down the hallways and towards the windows to make sure they were clear, kneeled next to the man and ripped open his robes and searched his pockets. They were empty except for a stopwatch and a package of bubble gum.

Scorpius frowned, and, standing up again, pointed his wand at the man.

_"Incarcerous."_

Slivery ropes flew from his wand and wrapped themselves tightly around the man. Scorpius sighed and leaned against the door frame. The door was gone, completely vanished.

"What was that you were saying again about not needing protection?" though his tone was light, he sounded scared.

"Scorpius," I said, discounting this, "I can't see."

For the first time he looked at me. His eyes went wide, and he looked, if it was possible, more scared than before.

_"Shit," _he cursed, looking up and down the hallway. For what, I don't know. "Shit, shit,_ shit."_

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure if I can heal you, but I can't leave _him,"_he pointed with his wand at the man. "Alone."

"Then I'll go to the hospital wing."

"I'm not letting you go there alone," he said fiercely.

"You idiot, you don't have to."

I pointed my wand at the man, whispering the moving and lifting spell.

"Oh."

"Oh," I agreed sarcastically.

Frowning, he looked at me again, he reached up and lightly touched my left cheek, looking scared.

"What's wrong?" I asked again.

"Nothing Madam Pomfrey can't fix, I hope. Let's go."

The whole way to the hospital wing he was jumpy, not letting us go around corners without him checking first, and he kept looking around, as if expecting an attack. It started to annoy me after a while, but before I could comment on it we had reached the hospital wing.

Even Madam Pomfrey looked shocked when she saw me. But after it subsided, her normal brusque manner returned. She chastised me about being so careless and teased me about this being my second trip to the hospital wing in a month. She forced me to sit down on a bed, and placed several cloths next to me. After Scorpius had deposited our attacker on an unoccupied and further tying him to the bed, he came over to me and, after Madam Pomfrey's consent, sat next to me and held my hand.

"Now, the most important thing is that you stay still. If you don't think you can, I can place a spell that will keep you still, but I'd rather not."

"Okay . . ." I muttered.

"This might hurt, I warn you."

She waved her wand once, muttering a spell, and my eyes locked in placed. I almost panicked, but Scorpius squeezed my hand and I felt able to put my trust in the both of them. After making sure the spell worked, she rested her cool hands on the right side of my face.

"Hold still," she said.

Scorpius squeezed my hand, and I saw him out of the corner of my eye turn his head. It must be bad. I felt a strange tugging sensation in my eye, and when it was gone a warm liquid squirted oozed over my face and everything went black. Madam Pomfrey moved faster than I thought she could. She pressed one of the cloths to my eye, and then waved her wand and removed it. I was still blind, but the warm gushing had stopped.

I admit, I was scared. I was terrified I would never be able to see again. I would never be able to see Scorpius's face when I walked down the aisle. I would never be able to see our children's faces. Everything in my life would change. It was only in that moment that I realized how much my sight meant to my life, and if Madam Pomfrey was able to restore it . . . then I would bloody be thankful, that's for sure.

"Relax," she said, when I was borderline panicking. I felt Scorpius's other hand on my arm, squeezing it in a soothing way. "I can restore your sight, but you need to calm down."

I had started breathing normally and almost, If not used to, adjusted, for my lack of vision. My hearing and sense of smell had sharpened palpably. I could hear Scorpius's hitched breath besides me, the sound of different fabrics rustling against one another. I could smell Scorpius's scent, his shampoo nearly overpowered it, but I could faintly detect something that I had never smelled before. It was a neutral odor, but it smelled . . . intriguing.

I heard the swish of Madam Pomfrey's wand, and it was as if someone turned on the lights and put a pillow over my ears and nose.

"Are you alright?" said Scorpius, his voice shaking. I nodded, blinking at the bright light.

"Can you see?" asked Madam Pomfrey. I nodded again.

"Clearly?" She asked.

"Yes."

She held up a splinter of wood.

"What's that?" I asked.

"That," answered Scorpius, "Was in your eye."

I sat in shock.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

There was a lull in the conversation while Madam Pomfrey put her things away and bustled into her office.

Once the door was shut, Scorpius's and I's eyes were invariably drawn to the same place—our attacker.

"Who is he?" I said silently.

"If he wasn't so valuable, he would be dead for what he's done to you."

"Why's he valuable?"

"Because he can tell us who he's working for. Why they're trying to get at you. What they want."

He looked at me, and gently cupped my right cheek, examining my eye.

"I'm glad you can see," he said softly.

"I was terrified," I said honestly. If it had been anyone else, I would have brushed it off like it was nothing. But there was no point hiding from Scorpius.

"I was too," he said. "I almost failed. You got hurt."

"I got him," I said, almost gloatingly.

He appeared slightly amused.

"Yes you did," I heard a tone of pride in his voice. It gave me a slight case of the flutters. I smiled, though, ready to say _I-told-you-so._

"I told you I didn't need protecting."

"Don't start that again," he sighed heavily. "I don't want to fight."

Grimacing, he stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to contact Harry. You'll be safe with Madam Pomfrey. And I have no doubt you can protect _yourself."_

There was an ice in his voice I had not heard since we were kids.

"Scorp—"

"Don't bother," he sneered, and turned and walked towards the door, levitating our attacker behind him. He turned. "Don't leave the hospital wing till I get back. I won't be long." He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then, with a combination of ice and tenderness I hadn't realized was possible, said; "I love you."

And then he left me alone with nothing but the echo of a slammed door and the nurse for company.

* * *

><p>It didn't take me long to reach the nearest fireplace containing floo powder, despite my anger at my girlfriend, which had subsided slightly with the walk and the reflection of the fear of almost losing her. I wanted to run back to the hospital wing and apologize and hold her tightly and kiss her, but I had my duties to do. And I would be back.<p>

Harry had given me special access to exit or enter the castle whenever I wished, after some coaxing of the headmistress. I lit a fire in the hearth with my wand, then sprinkled some floo powder over it. After the dizzying sensation of floo travel I landed in the room next to Harry's office with the unconscious man.

Harry was in the room almost immediately, thanks to the silent alarm trigger that was caused by my entrance.

"What happened?" he asked, not sounded shocked at all. I doubted there was anything that could shake him anymore.

"We were attacked."

"Is Rose safe?"

"Yes, I left her with Madam Pomfrey." I said grimly, thinking of what I said to Rose when I left and seriously starting to regret it. "I told her not to leave the hospital wing. She should be safe. She can take care of herself. She is the one who stunned him, after all."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"I'll want a full report by dinner," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"Now, to deal with this prisoner. We'll interrogate him. Did you check his pockets?"

I gave him the stopwatch and bubblegum, along with the man's wand. Harry examined each object very closely. What he could see special about them that I couldn't, I had no idea. He spent an extra amount of time on the wand, bending it and rolling it in his fingers.

"Ten inches," he said aloud. "Walnut, bendy . . . dragon heartstring. I don't know who it belongs to, but we might have it on file. If we don't, I can always ask . . ."

He trailed off, examining the wand more closely.

"How do you know so much about wandlore?" I asked, curious.

"Hmm?" He said, looking back at me with a slightly dazed look. "What?"

I repeated myself. Harry grimaced a little bit, as if remembering a nostalgic, but not-to-fond memory.

"It helped me defeat Voldemort. I've realized it can be pretty useful to know what you're fighting with."

There was a slightly sarcastic note in his voice, though I know he hadn't meant it to be rude.

"Oh."

There was a pause while Harry examined the man himself.

"He seems familiar, though I can't quite place where I've seen him before," He straightened up, returning his full attention to me. "You've done quite well."

I felt quite proud of his praise. It was strange, in the short time I had known him, Harry Potter had become more of a mentor to me than my own father. Though this made me feel slightly guilty to my father, I put it aside and realized that my father wasn't much of a mentor anyway, no matter how much I loved him.

"Thank you, sir."

"Now that we have a source for information, the investigation should proceed more quickly. I still want you to be on your guard, though, as always. And keep an eye on Rose as often as you can spare it. She's still in danger, and watch for anything unusual. We need every detail we can get."

"Yes, sir."

"I think I'll take a trip to Hogwarts later today. I'm going to speak with the headmistress about increasing security. We don't want any more victims. I want you to hand me your report then, and I'm going to speak with Rose."

"Okay."

"You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

I turned back to the fireplace to leave, but before I could step into the dancing green flames, Harry stopped me.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Love is the greatest magic of all. It's worth fighting and dying for. Remember that."

"Yes, sir," Feeling slightly confused, I stepped into the dancing green flames and called for Hogwarts, and I spun back towards the school, towards Rose.

* * *

><p>The moment Scorpius had gone, Harry sighed and returned to his office, leaving someone to guard the prisoner. He fell into his chair and ran his hands over his face. The sheer pleasure of sitting down after a day spent running around putting out one fire after another was enough to relax him.<p>

At least they had a lead now. At least he was working towards a goal again. This was _his _case, one he would not delegate to another. It was too important. He had not had his own case in a long time. It felt good to be on the hunt again.

And yet what the case pointed to worried him more so than anything had since the end of the war. He had a bad feeling about this. If it was another Dark Lord, he had much more at stake this time than with Voldemort. It had been different. Voldemort had already taken everything from him. _This _was different, a different time, different circumstances, a different fear. Not a fear for his own life, but the fear for his family, and a fierce desire to protect them.

The two attacks on Rose had been enough to aggravate and worry him, enough so to keep him up at night. What if something_ did _happen to his family? The thought was more than he could bear. It was almost worse than facing death. And he knew better than most what facing death felt like.

He swiveled around to face the portrait of the sleeping Dumbledore above his head.

"What would _you _do?" he asked softly. But, of course, the portrait was asleep, and held no answers for him. Besides, he already knew that Dumbledore would say that he, Harry, would know the answer better than he.

The only thing to do was to keep pressing forward. He would not let his family come to harm, no matter the cost. What he had told Scorpius was the truth. Love was worth fighting for, and, if it came to that, dying for.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Hey everyone! I know, I know, the splinter in the eye was kinda cheesy and more of a filler than anything . . . mostly for this chapter I just had this image of Harry swiveling around in his chair and consulting asleep-Dumbledore, and show how much Harry's grown up and doesn't need a mentor/teacher anymore, because he's already cleverer than the teacher. . .and also show that Harry's kinda channeled Dumbledore's personality a bit as he gets older . . . anyway . . . got all that? Taking notes? Lol . . ._

So thanks for reading my story, as usual, and please leave a review!


	10. The Unwritten Rule

Chapter Ten

The Unwritten Rule

_"A life without love is no life at all."  
>~Ever After<em>

* * *

><p>When I returned to the hospital wing Rose was pacing up and down the row between the beds. She looked angry and agitated and whipped around when I shut the door. I gulped, knowing by the look on her face that I was in trouble.<p>

She crossed the room in three long strides to stand in front of me. I stepped back as she shoved a finger in my chest.

"Now you listen here, mister, if you think you can just—"

I stopped her with a finger to her lips. A look of confusion added to her anger. I knew that wasn't going to stop her, though, so I did one better.

I did what I felt like doing.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, drew her tight to me, and leaned down to bury my nose in her shoulder. She paused for a moment, surprised, then returned the gesture, though I doubt she felt as much emotion as I did. How could she? I was just happy to see her alive. I was sorry for being short with her. I loved her. That pretty much summed up all I was feeling in that moment.

"Rosie," I said after a long, long interval. I sounded as though I had a bad head cold. "I'm sorry."

We drew away simultaneously, and she blinked rapidly at me. I knew she was keeping back tears.

"Scorp . . ." she whispered, and then hesitated, looking as though she was unable to go on. She instead rested her head on my chest, keeping me from looking at her face. I held her for another long stretch of time, until she finally murmured: "I'm sorry too, Scorpius."

I closed my eyes at these words, feeling the soft touch of her fiery hair on my cheek. She shifted to look up at me, and as blue met grey I felt my heart pound in my chest. I placed my hand on her cheek, drawing her nearer to me, we kissed softly, and it was as if we each felt each other's emotions, or more likely our own, more palpably. Her hand found its way to my hair as did mine to hers, almost a familiar gesture by now. It was comforting and welcome.

"Alright! None of that!"

We jumped away from each other to look guiltily at Madam Pomfrey, who was shaking her head at us.

"You teenagers are all the same. Always showing affection at the wrong times and places, off you go! Shoo! Shoo!"

I couldn't help but grin slightly as she waved us out of the hospital wing. Once the doors were well out of sight, Rose looped her hand through my arm.

"Well, maybe we shouldn't have been making out in the middle of the hospital wing," she grinned.

I couldn't help but smile as I looked down at her, her head resting on my shoulder and looking too adorable for words.

"You're probably right," I said.

* * *

><p>I stopped suddenly, and pulled Scorpius into a deserted passageway behind a tapestry.<p>

"This looks like a good place, though," I grinned, and before he could say two words I was on him, kissing him passionately. He returned the kisses with enthusiasm. A soft moan escaped my lips and I untucked his shirt to run my fingers across his hot back. He shivered and made a funny noise between a growl and a groan, and I grinned.

I pulled myself closer to him, and his breathing becoming labored. He pushed me up against the wall. Lost in the moment, I slid both my hands under his shirt, feeling his hard abs (when did he get those? Oh well, I quite enjoyed them . . .)

He sighed in pleasure. Feeling incredibly powerful, I softly bit his bottom lip and let go, wondering what he would do. His eyes were half-closed and he looked dazed. He lowered his head to plant tiny kisses on my neck. On impulse, I closed my lips over his earlobe, and he paused in his kisses. I felt his mouth open and his hot, ragged breath.

"Rose," he breathed onto my skin. His voice was so full of passion and bordering on out-of-control that under normal circumstances it would have made me panic. But in this situation it made my heart race in anticipation. After a beat, I continued tending to his ear, and he inhaled sharply and pressed his lips softly to my skin.

His large hands found their way under my shirt and up my waist. Feeling his hands on my bare skin caused a severe reaction at the contact I had not anticipated, and I gasped.

I guess he still had some sense left of self-restraint, because his hands did not move further up.

He must have felt my disappointment, because he paused, and whispered in my ear, making me shiver from head to toe.

"I don't want to rush things, love. I don't want to mess up with you."

The words were so unexpected and so . . . touching . . . that I gasped at the sudden rush of emotions inside me.

"Oh, Scorpius . . ." were the only words I could manage. Oh, Merlin. Leave it to me to choke up in the middle of an intense snogging session. Thanks, powers-that-be, for cursing me with an endless supply of tears.

"I — love — you." I managed to say somehow.

He chuckled and kissed me just beneath my ear, and I shivered.

"I love you too, Rosie."

Yeah, sorry. It stopped there. No more action. I was too emotional over his words to continue. I knew he was disappointed it stopped there (or, at least, the boy part was), but I think he was glad it did. I know I was. I don't think either of us were ready at that point for the big step of diving headfirst into the sexual arena. It was a bit scary. Not to say we completely stopped making out over the next few weeks, (yeah, right . . . you honestly think I would give up something that good? Please. You obviously don't know me very well), oh no, there were plenty of make-out sessions. It was a long while before we were ready to take_ that_ step, and I'm not quite ready to tell you yet, and there are things that happened in between. Important things.

* * *

><p>The man paced in front of the dying embers in the fireplace. He was agitated. Frustrated beyond belief. His top man had been captured, and was probably spilling all his secrets to the one person whom would ruin all . . . or at least severely complicate the situation. Damn that man.<p>

It wasn't as though it was Harry Potter's fault he was so vastly infuriating, however. Harry Potter was a hard man to break, to even crack. How he would like to wrap his hands around that man's throat . . .

"Eventually, eventually . . ."

The man paced back and forth for some time, unaware that he had been joined by more feminine company than his thoughts. A woman in a long dress stood for some time in the doorway, watching the man, her husband, though the term is applied loosely. She frowned at his pacing.

"Let it go, my darling," she said eventually.

The man stopped dead in his pacing, and glared at the woman in the doorway.

"I don't remember asking your opinion," he growled.

"I don't care if you did," she countered neatly. "Let it go."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said, flustered.

The woman smiled sarcastically. "I'm sure you do."

The man's upper lip curled, his hands balled into fists, and he looked as though he would quite like to throttle the woman, but a touch of fear came into his eyes, and instead he turned and threw himself in the large armchair facing the fireplace.

"Let Harry Potter go," the woman kneeled next to his chair, gripping his arm. "Where is the written rule that you must kill him before the world can be yours?"

"It is unwritten," he whispered hoarsely.

"Says who? Voldemort's old followers? You don't need them. They are few, weak, old, bloodthirsty . . . cowards. You can raise yourself a new army. A powerful, strong army. Do you have any idea how many would follow your cause? You see the greater vision. You hold the word. People would follow you. Just a few little lies, and wizards and witches would follow you into the great beyond, all in the name of protecting their families . . . or themselves. People are easily manipulated."

"Leave me be, devil-tounged woman."

The woman seemed amused. "You know I speak the truth. You hold none of the limitations of Voldemort. What do a few Mudbloods or half-breeds matter? Nothing in the grand scheme of things. You want power, I have given you the key to the ultimate. You know what you must do. Forget Harry Potter, forget his petty little family. They matter not. Perform the ritual."

The man paled. "No," he cried. "No! I will not! You go too far!"

"Ha! Coward!" the woman rose, a fake, angry smile plastered on her face. "No matter. The lure of such power is too much for you to resist. I know this, I know you. I have given you the secret, it falls to you to carry through. You will do so eventually." She turned towards the door, a manic grin still masking her features. "I will leave you to your thoughts and your petty schemes. When you are finished, when you have realized the only way forward is mine, you know where to find me."

Her skirts swished as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

As soon as the man heard the front door slam, he rushed to the window, looking down on the courtyard below. The woman walked angrily down the path as the man watched, and she gestured fiercely to her man-servant, but the man could not hear anything that was said between them. He watched them until they were beyond the front gates, and his wife and her man-servant twisted and disappeared into the night, as if they were never there. Except for her words ringing in his ears, they might never have been.

* * *

><p>"Who are you? What do you want?"<p>

Harry was leaning back in his chair in his office. The slightly rotund man his admirable trainee had captured was currently looking much smaller than he really was, shrinking down in his chair as he was. The man was not bound, only the door locked and Harry's wand close at hand.

Harry did not consider this man much of a threat, not when his life was in their hands. He appeared to be only a man of self-interest, crouching behind more powerful wizards. The fat man reminded Harry of Peter Pettigrew. And because of this, Harry felt a slight bit of pity for him.

The man shifted slightly at Harry's question, but did not answer nor look up.

"Look," said Harry, leaning in closer. The 'friend' card was sure to work. "If you tell us what we want to know, then we guarantee your safety."

"By throwing me in a jail cell, no doubt," the man said sarcastically.

Harry blinked, only slightly shocked this man was not what he expected him to be.

"No, this doesn't work like that, see," said Harry, standing up and leaning on his desk. He glanced at the portrait of Dumbledore, pretending to be asleep. Harry knew he was listening intently to the interrogation. "If we were to put you in prison, you would either break out or whomever you work for would find a way to get you out. This person obviously has resources."

"That he does," whispered the man under his breath. If Harry's hearing had not been so attuned, he would not have heard it. As it was, he chose to not comment.

"Tell me your name."

"My name is . . . Jenkins. For now."

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"I see. And who do you work for?"

"A very dangerous man."

Harry frowned. "If you were a bit less cryptic, I'm sure I would find myself to be a little more lenient."

Jenkins' face twitched in annoyance.

"I don't know his name. He only told me to call him 'master' and do as he said. He paid good for what I did for him."

"And what did you do for him?"

"His dirty work. His delicate work. Everything in between."

Jenkins grinned. Harry noticed he was missing a tooth and had two gold teeth. He felt a stab of revulsion at the pitiful state of this man's dental work.

"What exactly do you mean?"

"I eavesdropped on important conversations. I was on the spot where information was to be had. I recruited grunt work. I could do the things no one else could, like get into Hogwarts undetected."

Harry found himself fall back into his chair. He smiled triumphantly. He had the Head-Bad-Guy's right-hand-man. He had all the information he wanted sitting across from him willingly giving him information. It was almost too easy.

"You're going to tell me everything."

"I don't have much choice," grunted Jenkins. He observed his nails, avoiding Harry's stern gaze, before looking back with a sarcastic smirk. "I warn you though, Potter, you're in over your head."

Seeing Harry's slightly befuddled look, he leaned in.

"You don't know who you're dealing with. This man's powerful. He's got friends in high and low places. He ain't afraid to throw money around, and he don't have any of the limitations of them Death Eaters you're used to dealing with."

"What do you mean?"

"He don't care about blood. Mudblood, Pureblood, Half-breed. . .none of that matters to him. He only cares about one thing—power. And he'll do anything to get it. I know you're going to ask, but I don't know exactly what he wants. I know he wanted to kill you. He probably still does. But he'll put that aside if it gets in the way."

Harry stared, a touch of fear filling him. Why it scared him to hear the bad guy _didn't_want to kill him . . . he didn't know. All he knew was that it unnerved him much more so than him just wanting Harry dead. Every bad guy wanted Harry dead. It was almost a prerequisite to being the next dark lord—kill the man who defeated the last one.

This man scared Harry. What did he want? What was he after? Why did he go after Harry's family? Jenkins had said the man wanted power. . . but how did that connect-?

"Oi, are you finished with me yet? The guards here was just about to feed me lunch."

Harry paused. He had started to pace without realizing. Bringing himself out of his thoughts, he signaled the guard to take Jenkins back to his holding cell, leaving Harry alone in the room.

The second the door was closed, Dumbledore opened his eyes to look at his former pupil.

"Well, Harry? What are you thinking?"

Harry glanced at the man who was his mentor, and perched on his chair before speaking.

"Something's not right here. This is no ordinary case. This man . . . he's different."

Dumbledore looked at him, making Harry remember the time when that look would make him feel as though he were being X-rayed. But the sensation did not travel through a portrait.

Frowning, frustrated, and slightly scared, Harry began to re-arrange the items on his desk. After moving a stack of papers into the same place three times, he realized this wasn't helping, and started pacing again.

"I've got to stop this before it begins," he muttered, more to himself than to the painting. "I won't let another Voldemort come to power only to terrorize _this_ generation. I _won't!"_

And he punched the wall for particular emphasis of this point.

Scowling and shaking his knuckles out, he resumed his pacing. Dumbledore said nothing, but merely watched Harry walk back and forth.

"I'm . . . going to go to lunch," said Harry abruptly.

"That is perhaps a good idea," answered Dumbledore.

The door seemed particularly light (until it slammed into the wall) as Harry exited the room to find Ron for lunch.

The portrait of Dumbledore watched the back of the door for some time, until, with a slightly troubled expression, closed his eyes to fall into the main occupation of portraits—sleeping.

* * *

><p>"It's only for two months."<p>

"I know that, but I know as soon as I get home it'll seem like a lot longer."

"Of course it will. I'm trying to make you feel better about it here, dammit, quit trying to undermine my efforts!"

Rose giggled.

We were on the Hogwarts express, on our way home for summer break. The train had almost arrived at King's Cross Station, and it was time to say our goodbyes. We had spent almost the whole ride apart, because it would obviously be suspicious if we spent it together.

The rest of sixth year had passed quietly after the man—Jenkins was his name, Harry told me, had been caught. It was almost as though the man behind these attacks had given up or lost interest. Though the investigation had been far from halted, it had nearly, once again, come to a crawl. Or at least, that's what Harry told me.

But I knew he was lying. One thing Harry Potter is absolutely dreadful at: lying. You can always tell when he's lying. Even I, practically a stranger, could tell when he was fibbing.

I knew something big was going on. Harry seemed more and more stressed every time I spoke with him, and he seemed to almost be _placating_my questions. Something wasn't right. My conscious nagged me about it at every turn and I had the strangest dreams, the most vivid being about losing Rose, but there were other things I dreamt about . . . things that worried me. But I tried to put it in the back of my mind, because fretting about it did no one any good.

After all, I had worse things to worry about—like not seeing Rose again for two months.

"You know," said Rose, with a thoughtful look. "It won't be that bad."

"Oh? How so?"

She grinned mischievously.

"Well, we'll write each other letters. . .you know, normal ones about anything interesting happening . . . and then we'll write really soppy letters about how much you miss me . . ."

"Hey!" I exclaimed, looking indignant. "What about you? You'll miss me much more than I'll miss you."

"Oh please," said Rose, "I'm surprised you don't implode during the night from me not being there."

Rose giggled as I scowled.

"Surely you give me more credit than that," I answered, tugging on a lock of her hair.

"I wasn't finished, you know," said Rose.

"Oh then, by all means, continue laughing at me."

"No," she said, the impish twinkle back in her eye. "I meant about summer."

"Go on," I said.

"Well, there's the normal letters and the soppy letters . . . and then we'll of course be seeing each other once in a while . . ."

I jumped out of my seat. No, literally. I think the train hit a bump. Right.

"Rose! Explain!"

She grinned widely at my reaction.

"We can see each other secretly! No, listen," she pacified, catching the look on my face. "We both can apparate now; it'll be like we live next door to each other."

"Like our parents and your brother won't catch us sneaking into each other's rooms . . ."

"We don't have to always meet at our houses. We can meet at other places, like Diagon Alley . . . and there's this playground a few blocks away, there's empty fields where we can play Quidditch . . . and we can go out to eat sometimes . . . it'll be an adventure!"

"I've had quite enough adventure after the last two times."

She waved off my serious-face.

"This will be the good kind of adventure!"

She beamed happily at the prospect. I could feel my heart melting at the sight of it. Damn, she knew I couldn't possibly say _no _to her.

But there were so many complications . . . so many consequences if we were caught. . .However, the thought of wiping that beautiful smile off her face if I said no was almost unbearable.

I sighed.

"Oh, alright."

Rose sprang out of her seat, made a little squeal, and jumped into my arms, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I couldn't help but laugh at her excitement and hug her back.

"For you, Rose," I said once she calmed down a little. "If it makes you happy."

"Of course it makes me happy!"

We stayed with each other until the train rounded the last corner and King's Cross was in sight. There was a very long good-bye kiss, and a promise to write, and another good-bye kiss, and then a good-bye, and then yet another good-bye kiss (not that I minded), and then we waved at each other as we went back to our respective compartments.

The train shuddered to a halt as it pulled into the station. I gathered my belongings and left the train, looking for my parents and eventually locating my mother, but not my father, beaming and waving to me. I rushed to her, and she gave me a hug.

"Hi mum," I said. "Stop fussing, I'm fine"

She stopped straightening my robes and brushing invisible dust off my shoulders.

"Oh, Scorpius!" she said, "I've missed you!"

"I missed you too, mum," I responded, "Where's dad?"

"Oh, he had to work, dear. You know how busy he is."

I frowned. "Of course he is."

Thankfully my mother didn't catch my sarcasm.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, sure," I said. I looked around one last time to look for Rose. I spotted her immediately, surrounded by all her friends and family. She noticed me watching her straight away. She smiled at me and winked. Albus followed her gaze and gave me a little wave. Harry, ever alert as he was, noticed and nodded at me.

I waved back to everyone, smiling, and turned to leave with my mother.

"Who was that you were waving at, dear?" asked mum.

"Oh, nobody important," I answered, grinning at the lie, when the truth was the complete opposite.

"Oh, alright then."

I smiled, offered my mother my arm, and we both spun on the spot away from the bustle of the station.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _. . . and so ends another chapter, and another year for our characters! Which reminds me . . . I apologize for the utter chaos in the timeline here. I couldn't even remember what year they were supposed to be in and was too lazy to read through it all again (seeing as how I've read through it around a dozen or more times, you can agree it would be a bit tedious, yes?), so I just set them at the end of sixth year. Because that's where I say they are. So yeah. Well, honestly, the dates aren't that relevant to the story anyway . . . except for the transition between child/teenager/adult. . .but . . . yeah okay I'll put down the shovel now._

_So, I've officially introduced the bad guy's henchman, Jenkins. :D yay! AND the bad guy's not the only bad guy . . . there's a woman behind him! As there always is. You can probably tell who's really running the show. I bet you're all DYING to find out who they are . . . well, I'm not telling. . .not yet. . .sorry. :P_

**_Don't be shy! Leave a review!_**


	11. Tempers and Conspiracies

Chapter Eleven

Tempers and Conspiracies

_"Are you sure you want to play this game?"  
>~Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows<em>

* * *

><p><em>Dear Rose,<em>

_Hello Rose! How are you? How is being home? I hope you're well, and happy, and having fun playing Quidditch with all your cousins. You probably have enough for a whole match, don't you? With reserves and everything. You know I'm just teasing you, ha ha._

_So, first letter! First letter ever, by the way, between the two of us. I think you were right. I definitely miss you more and me being the first to write sort of proves it, don't you think? Well, it goes without saying I miss you, but I'm going to say it anyway, because thinking of the smile on your face when you read that makes me very happy. I miss you. And, you know, I really need all the happiness I can get, being stuck here with two very annoying parents._

_These two are the moodiest people I know, me included. They're driving me nuts. There's not anyone here even to talk to. Except for Blinky, our house-elf. And he only talks about boring things like what I want for tea._

_My father's been holed up in his office since I got here. What on earth he could be doing, I have no idea. I've only seen him at a few meals, and he has Blinky bring most of his to him in his study. It's kind of interesting, isn't it? The more someone's there, but the less time they spend with you, the more you miss them._

_At least my mother's been a bit more interesting. She spends most of her time in the library, but she rarely ever reads. She's dragged me out for a few shopping trips, too, but she always brings a girlfriend or two along and I practically get shut out of the picture._

_So, with lack of anything better to do, I've started on my homework. I've already got through all my potions work, and I'm going to start on transfiguration next. But, you know, if the opportunity to do something better presents itself, I'd drop all this nonsense in a heartbeat. Like, say, play Quidditch with my girlfriend._

_What do you say? Fancy a one-on-one? I bet I could beat you. I could so kick your arse, Weasley. I've been out scouting around a bit and there's this perfect field not far from my house, it's pretty secluded and hidden by trees, so the Muggles won't spot us._

_Write back soon!_

_Yours,_  
><em>Scorpius<em>

I clutched the letter to my chest, unable to stop smiling. I read the letter three times again, my smile and heart growing bigger at every reading.

He missed me! As much as I missed him! And despite his initial reluctance to my plan, he was the one to first suggest meeting up. I would most definitely have to tease him about that.

I giggled at the thought.

My father looked up at me then (he had not even noticed I was at the table until I had laughed).

"Morning, Rose," said Ron in a tired voice. "What are you laughing about?"

"Oh, nothing," I said airily. "It's a beautiful day."

I hopped up from the table, and I distinctly heard my father say something that sounded a lot like_ "women."_

Men.

I raced up the stairs to my room to write my reply.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Scorpius,<em>

_Yes! Quidditch! You're so on. Today at noon. Let's meet at the Leaky Cauldron._

_Can't wait to see you._

_Love,_  
><em>Rose<em>

I checked my watch. I had an hour before noon. I laughed, I was so excited.

At that moment, a tiny bird swooped into the room, a letter attached to his leg. The minute owl twittered madly around my head.

"Hold still, will you?" I said, exasperated.

After a couple tries, I managed to snatch the owl, who did not seem at all bothered by my manhandling of him. He popped his head out over my fist, and hooted happily at me. I suppressed a laugh while I undid the tiny scroll.

As soon as I let him go, he was off, circling the ceiling at a higher velocity than I had previously thought defied the laws of physics. But then again, a lot of things about magic defied the laws of physics. I unsealed the scroll.

_Mr. Malfoy-_

_I would greatly appreciate it if you could drop by the Auror office sometime today. I have a matter I require your assistance in._

_-Harry Potter_

_P.S.- Sorry about Pigwidgeon. He was the only owl available._

_"Pigwidgeon?" _I said incredulously to the owl. He hooted and swarmed around my head. "What the bloody hell kind of name is _Pigwidgeon?"_

The owl just hooted happily. Rolling my eyes, I checked my watch once again. 11:05. I better hurry and get to the Auror office.

I stuffed both letters in my pocket and threw Pigwidgeon somewhat unceremoniously out the window. I raced down the stairs, grabbed my coat, dodged my mother's questions shouted at me, and raced down the over-long drive of Malfoy Manor before arriving at the gates. As soon as I was clear, I apparated to the ministry.

As usual, the ministry was overly crowded, with witches and wizards popping into space around me, the fireplaces spontaneously bursting into green flame and different people dusting soot off their robes when they stepped out. Purple memos flew over my head. I stepped in the lift and found myself face-to-face with the one person I was trying to avoid—Ron Weasley.

I gulped, and he looked me up and down, as though trying to size me up. I smiled tentatively at him. He turned his head away from me.

My saving his daughter's life (two times) was probably the only thing that kept him from punching me. Good lord, I'm glad he doesn't know I'm snogging his daughter on a regular basis. Then he would probably jinx me instead of ignore me. Good thing he's an Auror, at least he can't use any Unforgivables on me.

There were a few moments of very, _very _uncomfortable silence, until Ron shifted from foot to foot, and then said: "Thank you," as though it were being forced from him.

I looked up at him, startled.

"For what?"

"Saving Rose," he said, still sounding as though he had taken a dose of U-No-Poo.

"Happy to," I said, debating whether or not to get off on the next level and let Ron get ahead of me before he could punch me.

Before I could get off, however, he asked me why I was at the ministry. Closing my eyes and praying to whatever gods were out there for patience, I turned back to him, wondering whether or not to tell him the truth. I rather thought, however, that if I lied to him he would think I was up to something suspicious, and would probably chuck me in Azkaban on principal.

"I'm, er, here to see Mr. Potter."

Ron looked startled and eyed me suspiciously.

"Harry? Why?"

"He asked me to."

_"What?"_

The tips of Ron's ears turned red, and he fell into a taciturn silence. He raced ahead of me into Harry's office as soon as the lift doors open, and slammed the door behind him. Feeling slightly annoyed, I checked my watch. My time before I had to meet Rose was ticking down. I leaned against the doorframe to listen to whatever was going on in there.

_"What the hell, Harry?" _I heard Ron's muffled shouting. _"Why the bloody hell is Scorpius Malfoy here? And why on_ earth _did he tell me he's here to see YOU? What the _hell_ is going on?"_

I imagined Harry sighing, and taking off his glasses to rub his eyes.

_"Look, Ron," _I heard Harry say. _"This is why I didn't tell you, because I knew you'd overreact."_

_"Over . . .?"_

"Yes, Ron. Overreact. Which is what you are doing. Scorpius has been working with us since Rose got poisoned."

I figured Ron was going to blow like a top at that.

_"You—you're . . . DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'RE DOING?"_

"I thought I was trying to solve a case and protect my niece."

_"YOU'RE SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY!"_

_"Oh, please, Ron. Scorpius is not his father, and Malfoy is not the one behind the things that have been happening. He's not even involved. I've checked, Ron. Do you honestly think I would bring someone on without knowing everything about them?"_

There was a pause, and I frowned, wondering what on earth was going to happen next.

_"But . . . Harry, he's still a Malfoy."_

My heart sunk a little at that. How long was it going to take for me to change the negative associations with the Malfoy name? I was not a Death Eater, and I did not hold their values. My father had turned away from that path long before I was born . . . wasn't there anything I could do to prove that I was on the good guy's side?

_"Ron,"_ said Harry, sounding exasperated. _"I know that, but I also know that it is our choices that make us what we truly are, not our names."_

There was a moment of silence.

_"You sound like Dumbledore."_

_"Yeah, well, he's the one that said that to me. A long time ago. Look, Ron, I don't expect you to like it, but I _do_ expect you to understand and accept my decision. Can you do that?"_

I couldn't help but feel a bit of admiration for the way Harry managed to placate his best friend, yet still assert his authority.

_"Please, Ron, just trust me. I know what I'm doing."_

_"I've heard that before, Harry. And it wasn't true."_

_"Dammit, Ron, all I'm doing is trying to protect my family. And employing Scorpius Malfoy can do that. He's a good man, Ron," _—I felt myself swelling a bit with pride at this— _"and he can protect Rose in a way that no one else can, not me, not even you."_

Harry, you're steering into dangerous waters there. . . I found myself praying he wouldn't tell Ron about me and Rose.

_"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Harry? How could that bastard protect my own daughter better than I can?"_

_"Ron," _said Harry, and I could tell he was backtracking a bit. _"that's not what I meant, and you would do well to calm yourself."_

_"Merlin's pants, Harry, if you don't tell me what the hell you're talking about, I will come across that desk and beat the piss out of you."_

_"Ron!"_

_"Er, sorry."_

_"Look, Ron, it's not my place to tell you, anyway. He's with her more than we are, he's saved her life twice already, why is that not good enough for you?"_

_"BECAUSE HE'S A MALFOY!"_

_"That's enough of that, Ron, and if you don't calm yourself, I WILL kick you out of my office."_

_"Bloody hell, Harry."_

_"I mean it."_

_"Fine then, never thought you would pick a Malfoy over your best friend—"_

_"RON!"_

I heard a loud slam that sounded like Harry had brought his fist down on his desk. I heard the metallic _pings!_ as objects bounced off the desk and onto the floor while I jumped back, startled. Several Aurors turned their head in the direction of Harry's office door, looking shocked. _"That's ENOUGH! GO! GET OUT! GO HOME! AND DON'T COME BACK UNTIL YOU THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU JUST SAID!"_

_"MERLIN, HARRY!" _Ron shouted back. _"I'M NOT THE ONE WHO IS LETTING A MALFOY, THE SON OF A **DEATH EATER**, INTO THIS OFFICE, AND LETTING HIM WORK FOR US!" _Heads flicked in my direction, and I shrugged sheepishly. _"HAVEN'T YOU CONSIDERED THAT HIS FATHER MIGHT BE WORKING FOR THEM? THAT'S HE'S JUST HERE TO STEAL WHAT WE KNOW AND BRING IT BACK TO HIS RAT OF A FATHER? No, of course not, Mr. Harry-It's our-bloody-decisions-Potter, because you don't care a rat's fart that you're putting my whole family in danger—"_

_"NO! DAMMIT, RON! I'M NOT GOING TO PLAY HEAD GAMES WITH YOU! DON'T YOU DARE SAY I'M WILLING TO PUT MY FAMILY IN DANGER! THAT'S RIGHT, __**MY**__ FAMILY! IT'S NOT JUST YOUR FAMILY, RONALD WEASLEY! You might have been able to get away with saying that years ago, but not now! Everything I've ever done, since I was bloody eleven, has been to protect you, Hermione, Ginny, and all the Weasleys, and now my children, and yours. You don't think I care? I fought Voldemort for all of you! I left Ginny, and the Burrow, and Hogwarts, even though it was the hardest thing I've ever done, to go destroy bloody Horcruxes, at the risk of more than my life, so I could bring down Voldemort, so you'd all be safe! I was willing to DIE for it Ron, and I DID. DON'T YOU EVER SAY I DON'T CARE AGAIN!"_

There was a beat where I imagined Ron was in a bit of shock.

_"Oh, yes,"_ said Ron, _"I never get tired of hearing about how you saved the world from Voldemort, you're a bloody hero. Oh, right, wait, we're forgetting something. Your protection didn't work out so well for Fred."_

There was quiet, and I could feel the rising anger, the magic in the air that meant someone was about to lose control.

_"Get out," _said Harry, his voice so dangerously low I could barely hear it.

_"You couldn't protect Fred, or Lupin, or Tonks, Mad-Eye, Dumbledore, Sirius, Cedric Diggory, Colin Creevey, Dobby—"_

**"GET OUT!"**

The entire office shook at the sound of Harry's voice, there was an explosion, and I heard the shattering of glass. I barely threw myself out of the way in time as the door slammed open and Ron stormed from the room, practically running out of the Auror office. Everyone stared after him in shock, then turned to Harry's office door, wondering what on earth had just happened.

I peered inside. Harry was behind his desk, breathing very heavily, and the window opposite the room was shattered, indicating he had done magic without meaning to. But the most impressive thing about his office was the web of red ribbon that was tacked all over the walls and ceilings, connecting different news articles, reports, pictures, and various other things. I couldn't even begin to make sense of it all and wondered if that was the reason he had called me there.

After a few moments, Harry noticed I was there, and, instead of shouting at me like I expected, he waved me inside, and I noticed his hands were shaking rather badly.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, still breathing rather heavily, as though he had just sprinted a mile. "Come in, I . . . thank you for . . . coming. I . . . need to speak with you. Come in, please."

I hesitated, wondering if this was a good idea, but I figured a murder by the Head Auror on Ministry of Magic premises was probably too much paperwork for him to bother, so I went into the office, feeling like I was walking on eggshells.

"Shut the door," he said quietly, and, having more and more reservations by the minute, I obliged. "And sit down," he gestured to the chair opposite his desk. I did so, and he turned his back on me, his hand on his hips. He stood there for several moments, and I gulped, wondering if I should run or get out my wand to defend myself.

He was quiet for a long time, and eventually his breathing slowed, and the room stopped vibrating, which I had not noticed until it ceased.

"Mr. Potter?" I asked tentatively, a bit concerned. "Are—are you alright?"

He turned, and looked at me like he had not noticed I was there until that moment.

"I can . . . come back later," I muttered, only slightly terrified for my life.

"No," said Harry, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face vigorously. "No, I . . . it's . . . I'm fine . . . I just . . . been a while since I lost control of . . . I'm . . . I'm fine now, thanks."

He did look a lot calmer, though his eyes still burned with anger. He replaced his glasses, and picked up several of the metal, strange-looking instruments that had dropped on the floor. He then drew his wand (I flinched), and repaired the broken window. He straightened a pile of papers, then sat down at his desk, and looked at me.

"How can I help you?"

"You . . . called me here, remember?"

"Yes, right, of course," he said, seeming a bit flustered. He pulled out a file and started rifling through it.

"Mr. Potter?" I said again, slightly hesitant. "Can I ask you something?"

He looked up at me over his glasses.

"Sure, why not," he muttered, putting the file aside. I gulped, wondering if my question might send him back over the edge.

"What did you mean . . . when you said that you . . . _did _die?"

Harry's mouth opened slightly, and he ran a hand through his already-messy hair.

"You heard that?" he asked.

"Well, with respect, sir, I think the whole office heard that."

Harry's shoulders slumped.

"I guess I'm going to have to do some damage control with more than just Ron," he laughed humorlessly.

I didn't say anything. He looked back up at me.

"That, my young friend," said Harry quietly and seriously. "Is a story for another time."

Well, at least he was going to tell me eventually.

"I bet," said Harry, standing up again and gesturing to all the ribbons. "That you are wondering what all this is about."

"Yes, actually."

"This is my web of conspiracy," said Harry, letting out a snort of laughter. He touched a ribbon, then followed it to a report, which I recognized as mine from when Rose got poisoned. "The recognizable start, when everything first came to my attention." He followed the ribbon back, and tapped at a muggle police report newspaper. "And this is before that, when things started to go awry. It all started with a single murder. Though it was not recognized by the papers for what it was."

I stood and read the police report.

"Franklin Bryce, 26, lived alone, died by shooting. The suspect, Jeff Anders, a 20 year old male, was apprehended and sent to prison to await trial."

There was a judge's note underneath saying he had been sentenced to life in prison for murder, with no chance for parole.

"How is this connected . . . "

"It didn't happen the way the muggles think it did. The man died of the killing curse, and was only shot after death by Jeff Anders to cover. My guess is he stumbled upon something he shouldn't have. I visited this Anders in prison, and it was quite clear that he was under the imperious curse. I appealed to the judge to have him released, but, before my note reached the Judge—" he followed a short red ribbon to an obituary. "The man was stabbed in the lunchroom of the prison by another prisoner, by a prisoner who had been offered freedom for it, but was later found dead, which was called a suicide."

"And the man behind this—"

"Was a henchman of Jenkins." He pointed to an arrest report and confession of using Unforgivables. Then he followed the ribbon to a diagram of a machine across the room. He tapped it several times. "This is what the man stumbled on."

"What is it?"

"Unfortunately, we don't know. Jenkins had never been involved in building it. It is clearly a muggle-magic hybrid, though. What its intended purpose is for . . . I shudder to think."

He followed another ribbon.

"Theft?"

"Yes, of a priceless work of art from the Du Louvre. A Da Vinci work, I'm told, a diagram of a strange contraption that no one quite knew what it was meant to be. But, something muggles didn't know-Da Vinci was a wizard. I spoke to magical historians, showed them a copy of the work, and they told me what it was. A device to control the minds of men, unfinished and never perfected."

"But, why would they need that when the have the Imperious curse?"

"Good question," said Harry. "Can you think why the Imperious Curse might not work? Where it might have . . . certain limitations and barriers no amount of magic can conceal or fix?"

"Because . . ." I started, surprised at being asked to answer my own question. "It's easy to tell when someone's under the Imperious curse."

"Good! Very good! Anything else?"

"It can be thrown off."

"Precisely." I thought he might have been channeling Dumbledore for a moment, because he seemed to enjoy teaching much more than I thought he normally did.

"And this machine . . ."

"It is much more subtle. It accesses the subconscious, so thoughts are perceived as their own. It's almost impossible to detect."

I started to comprehend the horror of what this machine could do.

"Merlin," I gasped.

"Ultimate mind-control," said Harry, nodding at my appreciation of the situation.

"That's . . . that's . . ." I stumbled, trying to find a horrible enough word to fit.

"I know," said Harry gravely.

"How . . . how does it . . . ?"

"How does it work?"

"Yes."

"We've yet to find out. We do know that some sort of ritual must be performed before it will work, and we're almost certain dark magic is involved."

"And how do you know they haven't performed this . . . ritual already?"

Harry was quiet for a long time. He moved behind his desk, and placed his hands on it, looking pale.

"We don't."

_"Are you kidding me?" _I said incredulously.

"We're watching closely for any signs of abnormal thoughts or actions-"

"But you don't know! We could be under the influence of it! Anyone in this office could have been exposed to it!"

"I _know, _Mr. Malfoy," said Harry sternly, and I remember that he had just gotten pissed off enough to break a window, so I decided it was time I shut my mouth. "I'm perfectly aware of the situation."

Harry was quiet for a time, and paced back and forth again, often examining different connections made by the ribbon. I sat impatiently, a thousand terrible thoughts running through my mind. Where was this machine? Had they activated it? Who could be behind this? What if there was a spy in this office? What if he had been taken over, and his thoughts were no longer his own? He might be losing control of his mind and he wouldn't even know it! How could they possibly fight this?

I met Rose in the Leaky Cauldron, and we had an uneventful lunch. Unless you count Rose finding gum underneath the table and being grossed out. It was a bit funny. She was cute when she got grossed out. But then again I always thought she was cute.

I purposefully kept the conversation light while we ate. I needed it after the horror I had just heard in Harry's office.

I paid for the lunch, and we left the pub, holding hands and laughing. The world was calm, and the street was quiet, too quiet.

Only the calm before the storm.

Then all hell broke loose.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**_ Yes, another cliffhanger. Sorry bout that. But . . . things are getting quite interesting, aren't they? What about that machine, huh? Creepy much? Scary? Good! And how about Ron and Harry's fight? Was it realistic? Was the writing good? Did it seem in character for both of them? Let me know what you think! _

_**Don't be shy…Leave a review!**__  
><em>


	12. The Leaky Cauldron

Chapter Twelve

The Leaky Cauldron

"_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true, here is the place where I love you."  
>~The Hunger Games<em>

* * *

><p>The world was rent apart in a massive explosion, I couldn't hear anything over the ringing in my ears, and everything was white. I flew through the air, and Rose's hand was ripped from mine.<p>

I couldn't do anything. I couldn't feel anything. The world was in slow motion. I could barely breathe. I was disorientated, I couldn't stand. I gripped my head, trying to get a hold on myself. I could vaguely hear people screaming.

I had to get to Rose.

This one thought dominated my mind, the cause of the explosion, the other people, who were most certainly injured or dead . . . none of it mattered. Only Rose mattered.

_"Rose!"_I felt my mouth move, but nothing come out. I crawled forward, with no idea what direction I was moving or where she actually was.

Blurry shapes started to move in front of me, I heard slowed-down voices over the ringing, and sirens. I saw flashing blue and red lights as I shouted out for Rose again.

Feeling started to return, and with that came pain. My whole body ached, but the worst thing was the pain in my chest. I stopped moving, and rolled over on my back, feeling my chest, which was bleeding. There was a sharp steel rod buried deep in my right side. My lung was undoubtedly pierced, which explained why I was gasping for breath, and probably why I was coughing up blood . . . so much blood . . .

"Rose," I wheezed, gripping the rod, and tugging uselessly at it, my strength deteriorating rapidly. I was choking on my own blood. The edges of my vision faded.

So this is what it was like to die.

Everything felt more and more detached by the second. Nothing was real . . . this pain wasn't real . . . my body wasn't real . . . even Rose was not real . . . and the hands that touched me, the arms that carried me away . . . were certainly Death's.

* * *

><p>The moment my hand left Scorpius's, terror, the explosion, the possibility of death became real.<p>

My body hit the ground, hard, and I felt several bones break. I tasted blood. I screamed, but could hear no sound. Hot tears streamed down my face from the pain. I screamed for Scorpius, but I could hear no answer. The pain became too much, and I knew I was losing blood from somewhere because I felt weak, and I fainted.

When I came to I was in a soft bed. I could hear people crying, the bustling of many people, the tinkle of metal instruments. The place smelled like a hospital.

I opened my eyes, and realized that was where I was. A muggle hospital ward. I tried to sit up, but found it hurt too much. So instead I looked around. My clothes, though tattered and dirty, still laid on the night table next to me. I faintly worried if my wand was in there, but was relieved when I saw the tip of the smooth wooden handle poking out of the clothes. I didn't know either of the people on the beds next to me. Where was Scorpius? If I was here, he must surely be too. I sat up again, and stayed up despite the pain.

I was immensely relived when I spotted his tell-tale curly blonde hair laying on a pillow a few beds away from me. He was hooked up to several machines and the computer screens on them were fuzzy and looked as if there was interference.

_Magic, _I thought. Duh, magic. Nothing electronic worked well around magic.

I was worried, though. The machines he was hooked up too was a life support machine. Scratch worried, I was terrified. I tried to stand up, but found a nurse pushing me back before my feet could hit the floor. Annoyed, I tried to resist, but she was stronger than me in my weakened state.

"Don't worry, dear," she said. I gave her an aggravated look. Don't worry? Was she fucking kidding me right now? I saw she was an older lady. "You got hurt pretty bad, but we've patched you up best we can, you should be healed enough to walk in a few days."

"Scorpius," I muttered, trying to get up again. So . . . maybe I was a bit loopy. I learned later they had given me a bunch of pain pills. Kind of an excuse for not making complete sentences.

"What's that, my dear?"

"Scorpius!" I said fiercely, trying to get up, I looked over at him again, but his upper body was blocked by a man, presumably a doctor. What was going on? Was he alright? He wasn't going to . . .

But the thought was so terrible that I couldn't finish it.

"What's a 'Scorpius'?"

I realized I was probably going to have to start making more sense or they were going to shoot me up with some sort of sedative. I've seen those muggle movies.

"The . . ." I said, the room starting to spin in front of me from the exertion of fighting the old lady. "The curly-haired blonde man over there, the one hooked up to a life machine, he's Scorpius!"

"Oh, I see, dear, he's a friend of yours?"

"Yes," I said. Friend was close enough, and I was too tired to explain, besides we had kept our relationship a secret so long that I automatically denied it without thinking anymore. "Is he alright? What's the matter with him?"

"He'll be fine, dearie," she said in a placating voice. My temper flared a bit. Dammit, I wanted the truth, not some fib to make me feel better! And this bitch had better stop calling me 'dear' or I was going to punch her. Erm . . . if my arm wasn't in a sling.

"Tell me the truth, dammit!" I said angrily. The old woman looked shocked at my language. "Tell me what's wrong with him!"

"I'm going to get the doctor," the nurse said, standing up. I grabbed her arm desperately with my left hand.

"Please," I begged her. She hesitated, and she seemed to pity me. Well, if that's what it took. "Please tell me."

The old nurse sat back down, and pulled my sheets up. Then she patted my arm and gave me a sympathetic gaze that not only annoyed me, but scared the hell out of me.

"His lung was punctured. He has several broken bones and ribs. He was near death when we arrived. The doctors are trying their hardest to keep him breathing and stabilize him. Don't worry dear, I'm sure he'll be alright."

Terror filled me at the possibility that he was _not_ going to be alright, and I tried to sit up again. I had to see him. I had to make sure with my own eyes that he was alive and would continue to be. The nurse stood up, and went to the bag that was attached to my hand through a tube. What did mum call those? An EV? FV? CV? No, that wasn't right . . .

"I'm going to give you something to sleep now, my dear."

IV! That was it! Shit . . .

I put up a hand to stop her, but was too late, as she plunged the needle into my tube, and I immediately felt sleepy, my eyes drooped, and I feel into a warm and much, much too deep sleep from which I did not wake for several hours.

* * *

><p>Ron was angry. More than that, he was livid. And he also felt guilty for fighting with his best friend, which had not happened since he walked out on the Horcrux hunt.<p>

But that didn't mean he didn't think he wasn't right.

He _was_ right, he knew he was. Having a Malfoy working for them was dangerous. They were always involved in something slippery. He had made the mistake once of underestimating a Malfoy, and Draco had turned out to be a Death Eater after all. He would not do it again. He would not allow a Malfoy to hurt his family. Even if he had saved Rose twice.

It could be a trap. A rouse. He would not lower his guard.

Arguing with Harry would get him nowhere. Harry was the most stubborn person he knew, and if Harry thought Harry trusted the Malfoy boy, then he would not change his mind. Ron could do nothing about it.

He punched the wall in frustration, leaving a sizable dent.

_"Dammit, _Harry!" he howled.

"Ron?" said a voice. Ron recognized it as Hermione's. She had come home. And now he was in trouble for damaging the wall. She entered the room, took one look at his face, and frowned, dropping her stuff next to the chair. She never did that. Hermione was too organized to leave her stuff on the floor, and she was always onto him to put his stuff in the coat closet.

"Tell me what happened, Ron."

Recovering from his shock, Ron started to pace again.

"Harry," he muttered wildly.

"Yes, I gathered that it had something to do with Harry, seeing as how you were just shouting about him."

Ron looked at his wife, the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. This only infuriated Ron more, and he found himself shouting.

"He's working with the bloody Malfoys, Hermione! That bloody bastard of a kid! He trusts the son of a bitch!"

He expected Hermione to start chiding him for his language, but instead she frowned at him.

"Scorpius?"

"Yes! That bastard!"

"He's saved Rose twice, though. He seems like a good guy to me, Ron."

"It's a rouse! He's a lying, sneaky bastard! All the Malfoys are! They're slimy, never trust them!"

"Where's all this coming from, Ron?"

"What, are you trying to be my bloody shrink?" Ron stopped and looked at her, and she was looking at him as though he had lost his marbles. He pointed at her angrily. "Don't bloody tell me you're taking his side!"

"This isn't about sides, Ron. This is about seeing what's really going on. This is about trusting someone and looking past who his father is."

"Not just his father! His grandfather too!"

"Ron," said Hermione, exasperated. "He's never even met his grandfather."

"It's in his genes!"

"You're being ridiculous, Ron."

"Ridiculous? I'm trying to bloody protect you! Our children! My family! Trusting Scorpius Malfoy will get all of us killed!"

Hermione shook her head, and it was clear she was becoming really irritated.

"You're being an idiot, Ron, and I'm not in the mood to deal with this right now."

She stormed from the room, and Ron stared at the spot where she had disappeared with his mouth hanging open.

There was a knock on the door.

"I've got it," called Hermione, still sounding angry.

Ron heard the door swing open, heavy panting and footsteps.

"Where's Ron?" He recognized Harry's voice and he became angry once more. He stomped into the kitchen and glared at his best friend.

Hermione glared at both of them, then turned her back to them to put the kettle on. Harry stared after her with a _what-the-hell-did-I-do _face.

"What do_ you _want?" said Ron nastily. Harry glared at him with just as much anger. If he hadn't come to apologize, or at least make up, why was he here?

"Put it aside, Ron. We've got bigger problems."

"Hmph!" voiced Hermione, slamming the kettle on the stove.

Harry ignored her, and looked at Ron.

"There's been an attack."

"Oh yeah?" said Ron sarcastically. "What kind of attack?"

Harry glared at him.

"The best I can describe it as is a terrorist attack."

Hermione whipped around to stare intently at Harry.

"What?" she squeaked, looking terrified. He hated seeing his wife like that. He knew she was reliving the war, and resisting the urge to comfort her was hard.

"Where?" said Ron.

"The Leaky Cauldron. I'm told it was an explosion. I'm going to go check it out and I want you there with me."

Ron seriously thought about telling him to shove off, but his curiosity was a lot stronger than his anger.

"Let me get my wand."

* * *

><p>"No doubt about it," said Harry, kneeling down to examine the ashes. "This was a magical attack."<p>

"Got to be," said Ron. "Otherwise it wouldn't have taken place right inside the Leaky Cauldron."

The entire place was a waste, the entire front wall blown out. It was also now visible to muggles, and the place was swarming with police. The only way they had gotten past them was confounding them and showing them fake badges. Muggles were congregating outside the police tape, trying to find out what was going on (and probably wondering where that building had come from). Harry and Ron had sealed the wall to Diagon Alley off, so no one could get through that way.

"I'm going to go talk to the police, see what they know," said Ron.

"Yeah," muttered Harry, waving Ron off. "You go do that."

Ron walked away, leaving Harry to examine the place.

He was trying to locate the source of the blast. He followed the clues, and found himself staring at a table that had not been thrown through a forceful blast, but had been utterly shattered.

"Aha," muttered Harry, sorting through the shattered bits to find what he was looking for.

There it was, a simple, unassuming plank of wood that had once been part of the table. Harry turned it over to examine what must have been the underside. There was what was left of the bomb casing, and a piece of old chewing gum.

"Ron," called Harry, "come look at this."

Ron dismissed the officer he had been talking to, and returned to Harry, who showed him the plank.

"That's disgusting, Harry," said Ron. Harry frowned.

"Not the gum, the plastic. It was where the bomb was planted."

Ron examined their location.

"The back right hand corner. So all we have to do is find out who sat here for the past month or so," said Ron sarcastically. Harry sighed.

"No, Ron, it would have been planted right before, otherwise they ran the very high risk of the bomb being found."

That wiped the smirk of Ron's face. Harry felt a grim sense of satisfaction.

"Five people died," said Ron gravely. _That _wiped the satisfaction off Harry's.

Harry removed his glasses and ran a hand over his face.

"And. . .how many were injured?"

"Three with life-threatening injuries, and ten with serious injuries. The other fifteen just had scrapes and bruises. They were taken to a hospital on Charing Cross. Do you . . . think we should go check it out?"

Harry thought for a few moments.

"If there are any witch or wizards there, then I think we'll have to. They're the only ones who can tell us who was sitting here. And they won't have any kind of identification, most likely, so the Police can't give us a list of who was there. Let's also see . . . see who died. Did you ask the police where they took the bodies?"

"A mortuary. They said none of them carried identification, and were dressed in strange clothes."

Harry cursed.

"All wizards."

"No," said Ron. "Two wizards and three witches."

"Let's go to the mortuary first, their memories might still be fresh, we might be able to get something."

"Let's go, then."

* * *

><p>I was in such utter pain when I regained consciousness that I realized there was no way I could be dead. Even though all common sense told me I must be, because wasn't that what had just happened? Hadn't I just died?<p>

I opened my eyes.

If I was, indeed, dead, then why on earth would I be in a muggle hospital with tubes sticking out of me just about everywhere?

It was a while before I realized I wasn't breathing on my own, but that tubes sticking out of my nose were providing me with oxygen.

What the hell?

There were hard bits of wood stuck to either side of both my legs and one of my arms. There was a large cotton bandage stuck to the right side of my chest and back. The one on my back was particularly gooey. Why had they not sealed up my wounds?

What was this, the dark ages?

Muggles.

I heard a sniff somewhere to my left side, and looked down as best I could. All I caught was a glimpse of fiery red hair, but that was enough to tell me who it was.

"Rose," I tried to say, but it came out as a gurgle. What the_ hell?_

I felt a warm hand slip into mine, and it felt like a better pain reliever than whatever shit they had me on. I weakly squeezed Rose's hand. Her face came into view above mine, and I felt her other hand in my hair. Rose was alive. Thank Merlin, she was alive!

I had almost lost her a third time.

Though it was hard to gather enough evidence to blame myself for this one.

"Oh, Scorpius," she whispered, stroking my hair and her eyes blurring with tears. I felt something hard brush my head and realized she had a cast on her right arm. Was she hurt?

I tried to raise my hand, but found I was not strong enough. _Dammit _this was frustrating.

Another incoherent sound came out of my mouth.

She kissed my cheek, I felt her warm tears, and I was weakly able to brush my lips against hers.

Rose sniffed.

"I'm so sorry, Scorpius."

I was confused, what on earth was she apologizing for? I gave her a look that said so.

"I feel like it's all my fault," she whispered.

I shook my head. Rose sniffed and was quiet. The soft tugs on my scalp where she petted my hair were so relaxing that I almost found myself slipping back into sleep. But I forced myself to stay awake for her. I squeezed her hand.

"Go," she whispered. "Go on, go to sleep if you want to. I'll be right here . . . if you want me to stay."

I nodded, and stroked her hand with my thumb. She smiled, removed her hands to shift her chair into a more comfortable position, then replaced them, and continued to stroke my hair. I was funnily reminded of when our positions were reversed when Rose got poisoned.

"I love you," she whispered softly, two tears falling from each eye. I squeezed her hand and watched her intently.

I didn't want her to see me like this . . . It would haunt her. But it was too late, and I didn't have the strength, physically or emotionally, to send her away, I needed her. But I couldn't comfort her. I hated feeling this helpless.

Eventually my troubled thoughts subsided, her warmth, her scent, her comforting presence wiped them away and eventually I fell asleep.

But my last thought was that we never did get to play Quidditch.

**A/N:** _Hello, again, my dear readers! I hope you liked the chapter. I am curious as to know whether or not I got you—did you honestly think I was going to kill Scorpius? Let me know! Quite honestly, I've grown much too attached to Scorpius to kill him off! I would have put it at the last chapter and left it as an ultra-mean cliffhanger, but I thought that would be too mean. I know I would hate that if this was a story I was reading instead of writing (Kind of like the last Eragon book where the end of every single chapter was a cliffhanger. Gets a bit wearing after a while.)_

_**Don't be shy…Leave a review!**_


	13. The Pieces Are Set

Chapter Thirteen  
>The Pieces Are Set<p>

_"My heart is, and always will be, yours."  
>~Sense and Sensibility<em>

Getting past the annoying muggle secretary at the mortuary was easy enough. Magic came in very useful at times. Or, at least, Ron thought so. But why anyone else would think it wasn't useful was beyond his capacity.

Ron let Harry extract the memories while he looked around. Memories were more Harry's thing than Ron's, after all.

Harry gasped. He had reached the last person and paused. Ron looked around at the dead man's face.

It was Tom the barmen.

Time seemed suspended, the breath knocked out of him. Then he overcame his shock. Why he was surprised, he didn't know, after all, it had been at the Leaky Cauldron, and Tom was always at the Leaky Cauldron. He had always been there. Toothy and a bit strange, but he had always been solidly present. Now he was dead. Dead like Fred.

The war had come back to haunt them.

As I watched Scorpius slowly slip into sleep, my eyes grazed over his many wounds. I stayed with him. I did not even leave his side when the nurse came to check on him.

I wondered how long it would take for the ministry to know about this attack. How long before they would be here, why they weren't already. I knew who it would be—my father, or my uncle. Then they would see me with Scorpius, and wonder why we were together. And then I would have to tell them. Wouldn't I? Maybe there was another solution, but I could not think of it with the cloud of pain pills blocking reasonable thoughts.

I had almost fallen asleep when I heard the door to the ward open. I didn't bother looking up—it was probably just a doctor, or a nurse, or a visitor. Why should I care who it was, anyway? Scorpius was hurt, nearly dead.

The people who had come in the ward were moving down the aisles, talking to the doctors. Their footsteps were too heavy to be female. Who were these people? Damn curiosity. I would have to look.

I looked up, and the flash of ginger and messy black hair, the flapping cloaks, were enough for me to know who these people were. I dived behind Scorpius' bed, not letting go of his hand. I winced as my chair made a very loud scraping noise. My uncle and father stopped talking to the doctors. I peeked over the bed, over Scorpius' gently rising and falling chest. They were looking over here. I moved out of sight. Dammit, dammit, dammit! Now what was I supposed to do? They were coming this way. I was frozen in terror. They were going to know about me and Scorpius!

"Rosie?"

My father. Shit. I looked up at him innocently.

"Oh, hello, daddy."

"What are you—Merlin's pants, Rosie! What are you doing here? Are you hurt?"

Suddenly he was on me, clutching my bandaged wrist, pulling me up by the elbows, my hand slipped from Scorpius's.

"What are you doing here? Were you in the explosion?"

I nodded.

"Rosie!"

His arms, strong and safe, wrapped around me. I felt my father's heart thudding madly. Why did everyone have to panic when something happened to me? With such a familiar, comforting embrace as my dad's, everything seemed to some crashing down, the reality of the situation setting in. My guilt, the explosion, what it all might mean . . . and I found myself crying. Damn, stupid female hormones. Why was I always the one crying? Why couldn't I be like my Aunt Ginny, who never cries? Who's always strong? Why couldn't I be like that?

"What were you doing there? What were you doing? Why you? Why is it always you?"

I wondered that, too.

He released me, and examined my face.

"Are you hurt?"

I held up my wrist.

"Broken."

"And they didn't fix it?"

"They're muggles, Ron," said Harry. I had forgotten he was there. "They can't fix broken bones like Healers can."

This only seemed to piss my dad off, and he shot Harry an angry look. What was that about? Were they fighting? That was weird.

My eyes stayed on Harry, though my dad was looking at me. Harry was watching Scorpius, and frowning. I could tell he was putting two and two together, and my suspicion was confirmed when he looked up at me. I looked at him in fear, pleading him with my eyes not to tell dad what I now knew he knew. He nodded, and I felt the iron fist released its grip on my chest. I looked back up at my father.

"They said I lost a lot of blood. I've been mainly laying around a lot. I'm fine, dad, don't worry."

"At least you're alive," he muttered under his breath. Just then he noticed whose bed I had been sitting by. The tips of his ears went red. "What are you doing with _him?"_

"I—I—"

Thankfully Harry was there to save me. I always knew there was a reason he was my favorite uncle.

"Ron, now's not the time. We have to get them to St. Mungo's. Especially Scorpius. He's clearly one of the three life-threatening injuries. If we don't get him there, he's going to die."

Die? _Die?_ Did he just say _die?_ Fear paralyzed me for a moment, then my father gripped my arm, a little harder than necessary, and tried to lead me from the ward, but I stood my ground. I would not leave Scorpius's side. I ripped my arm from my father's grasp. He looked at me in shock. I glared right back.

"C'mon, Ron, I need your help."

Harry's voice barely shook us from our staring contest. My father's face was growing an ugly, blotchy red. I knew his temper was growing because of my stubbornness. No matter. Two can play at that game. And I was not going to leave Scorpius. That was utterly unacceptable. Doing so would feel like breaking a promise. I couldn't leave him.

"Ron! Come on!"

Dad snapped out of it, gave me a look that I interpreted as a you-haven't-heard-the-end-of-this look, and followed Harry to Confund the doctors so they could take the hurt witches and wizards away. I barely paid attention to how we got to St. Mungo's, but I never once left Scorpius's side, until the Healers came, and I backed off to let them fix him, with their flashing wands and smelly potions. A single Healer fixed my wrist, and examined the rest of me, waving his wand once or twice. When he was done, every ache and pain had left me, and my head had cleared, the pain killers exiting my system.

"Thank you," I said. He smiled at me and it stuck me how very good-looking he was, but I barely noticed in my concern for Scorpius. He left, and I returned to Scorpius's room.

The Healers had left, and Scorpius was sleeping. He looked much, much better. Color had returned to his pale face, and with the bandages and tubes gone my fear lifted and I actually smiled from relief. He was going to be alright.

I sat in the comfortable chair next to his bed, and fell asleep watching him rest.

I must have been more tired than I thought because by the time I woke it was dark. I sat up groggily and rubbed my neck. I made a mental note never to fall asleep in a chair again.

I stood and stretched and the door squeaked open quietly. And I found myself face-to-face with Scorpius's mother. I had never met her before, but I had spotted her at the train station, so I knew who she was. She had long dark hair, a round face, upturned nose, small lips, and dark eyes. She was rather pretty, and made me feel like a troll in comparison.

She looked just as shocked to see me as I did to see her. I recovered first.

"Erm, hello," I muttered. "I'm Rose," I offered my hand.

Surprisingly she shook it.

"Astoria Malfoy," she said. "I'm Scorpius's mother. Scorpie never said he had a girlfriend."

And for good reason.

"I'm not . . . yeah . . . erm, we were trying to keep it secret."

Somehow the lies got all twisted up on the way to my mouth. It was impossible to lie to her, with her pretty face, her flashing eyes that said all too clearly it would be useless to try, and her surprising niceness that tricked my brain into thinking she could be trusted. Maybe she could.

"You're a Weasley, aren't you?" asked Astoria, eyeing my red hair and freckles. It was clearly not a question and more of a statement of obvious fact, though I answered anyway.

"Yes," I said. She frowned, and for the first time I saw a bit of Malfoy-haughtiness which they were so famous for.

"I have no problem with the Weasleys," she said, "but my husband does. So I understand. How long has this been going on?"

I had to think for a minute about that. It seemed like my whole life had been caught up in my relationship with Scorpius.

"Early November," I answered. She looked slightly surprised.

"Is it serious?"

Her piercing gaze was unnerving.

I had spent two years practically in love with Scorpius before our first kiss, and of course I was in love with him in the first place, does that meet the criteria for 'serious relationship?' To me it did, but what about him? Thinking about it all, everything we've been through, ever since we bumped into each other on the train, ever since he grabbed my hand as we raced out of the forest, and when I woke up with him next to me after I got poisoned. His eyes burning in that lonely corridor as he told me he loved me. There was no question that he loved me.

"I . . . I think so. I mean, we care about each other quite a bit. I . . . well, he's saved my life twice. And now there's this. I care about him a lot. And I'm sure he feels the same."

I guess I answered her question correctly, because her eyes softened, but I could tell she didn't trust me. Probably because I wasn't good enough for her son. Maybe no one was. Maybe I_wasn't_ good enough for him, looking at who he had for a mother, who was in a whole other league above me.

She looked down at Scorpius, sat on his bed, and reached up a delicate hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, which were still closed.

"How is he?" whispered Astoria.

"Better," I answered. I refrained from telling her the gory details. She seemed a lot more fragile than I was, and to let her know how awful he looked in that muggle hospital . . . I didn't think she could take it. "The Healers gave him a sleeping potion. He should be awake pretty soon."

"Then I'll wait."

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. I had kind of wanted him all to myself when he woke up, to tell him all that had happened, to know how he felt, to see his silver eyes land on me and light up. But I couldn't be that selfish. In fact, it might be best if I left her to it.

Just as I opened my mouth to tell her I was leaving, Scorpius stirred, and thwarted my plan to make things less complicated.

"Mum?" he whispered, then looked at me. There was a strange brightness to his eye, like he was happy to have the two most important women in his life in the same room. He must be crazy or something. "Rose? What's going on?"

"Oh, you know," I said airily, "just hanging out, meeting your mum, I was just leaving."

His face, which had been so happy only moments before, fell, and my heart sank with guilt at leaving him. Funny, all my dad really had to do in order to get me to leave Scorpius was introduce me to his mum.

"Don't go," he whispered, reaching out a hand to me. Instinctively I took it.

"Don't worry," I said, squeezing his hand and watching his mother out of the corner of my eye. "I'll come back. I think your mum wants to spend time with you alone, so I'll go. I'll come back, I promise."

The guilt at leaving him didn't go away as I uttered these promises, but my head had taken over, and told my heart to shut it. I let his hand slip from mine, and left the room. I felt his eyes on me the whole way.

It was no great surprise that I found Uncle Harry waiting outside as I softly closed the door. He looked up at me, closed the _Evening Prophet,_ and patted the seat next to him. I sat down.

"How's Scorpius?"

"He's fine. He was sleeping. Then his mother came in and he woke up. I figured I best leave them to it."

"Probably a wise choice."

He looked at me for a while, and I felt like I was being X-rayed. His glasses flashed as he frowned.

"I headed off Ron for you, with your mum's help, of course. Thought an argument with your dad was the last thing either of you needed."

"Thanks," I said, lowering my gaze to my dirty trainers. Then a thought entered my head. "How did you find out?"

"I've suspected you two have been seeing each other for some time. In fact, that was the first thought that entered my head when he first came into my office, pleading for a job so he could protect you."

I blushed.

"And how come you never told dad?"

"Knew he'd overreact."

"Oh."

There was a pause.

"Rose," said Harry, and I could tell by his voice that Uncle Harry had disappeared behind Auror Potter. "I need you to tell me what happened."

For some reason I hesitated. But it's whatever.

"Me and Scorpius had lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. We were going to go play Quidditch, but that never happened because of the . . . of the explosion."

"Where were you sitting when you ate?"

What the hell did that matter? Whatever. I had long learned not to question Auror business. They were always asking weird questions.

"The . . . erm . . . back right corner, I think. Why?"

Harry's hand slipped, and the newspaper fell to the floor. The expression on his face was something beyond shock. When he took the paper from the floor and gripped it, his knuckles were white and the paper crinkled in his grip. His green eyes were wide when they landed on me again.

"And was there . . . anything . . . under the table? Did you look?"

"Why would I do that?" Then I remembered that chewing-gum. And a flash of something else. The feel of plastic. Then it was gone again, leaving me wondering what had just happened and trying to remember what I had just lost. "There was . . . chewing gum."

"Chewing gum," said Harry faintly.

"Yeah," I said.

Harry dropped the paper again, and it fell to the floor with a fluttering thud. He didn't bother to pick it up this time. His face was buried in his hands when I looked back up again.

"Uncle Harry? Are you alright?"

He was quiet for a long time, though I could tell his brain was zooming into overdrive by the way his eyes flashed back and forth, and he running his hands through his already messy hair.

"Was there . . ." he gulped, looking straight into my eyes. "Was there anything else under the table?"

"No," I said, but my insides squirmed with guilt, like I was lying. That was weird, I was telling the truth, right?

Right.

"You're sure? You're positive?"

"Yes."

He looked at me a moment longer, then exhaled in what seemed to be relief.

"Alright," said Harry, and I noticed his hands were shaking as he bent to pick up the paper a second time. "Okay. Good. It must have been after you."

"Are you alright, Uncle Harry?"

"Yes, thank you, just stressed. I'll be alright. I'm more worried about you."

"Why would you be worried about me?"

"Because this is the third time something like this had happened to you. I'm worried. It feels like this guy is targeting you. And what with Scorpius injured . . . I want to give you a guard."

"A _guard?"_

Harry looked at me sternly, daring me to contradict him. I couldn't defy him like I could my father. I just couldn't.

"Yes," said Harry. "A guard. I'm worried, Rose, this is serious. This guy isn't just an amateur criminal, he's become extraordinarily dangerous. He's started planting explosives, he's become a terrorist. He blew up the Leaky Cauldron. Perhaps you don't understand what that means. Even Voldemort wouldn't have done such a thing. This guy seems willing to expose us to the muggles-I don't honestly think he cares, as long as he can kill people . . . or whatever he's trying to do. And you've been hurt by him three times. What am I supposed to do, Rosie?"

I didn't answer, and he nodded, like he didn't expect me to. He scrunched and released the newspaper a few times, then sighed and ran a hand though his hair.

"Uncle Harry?"

"Yeah, Rose?"

"Does dad know? About me and Scorpius?"

Harry hesitated, then sighed.

"I don't know."

"Did it work?"

"Yes, my lord, the bomb went off just as you had planned."

"What about the Malfoy boy? Is he dead?"

The servant looked up at him fearfully, probably scared he was going to kill him. Well, he would if the man didn't give him the answer he wanted.

"N-no, my lord. P-plea—"

But the man had already hit the floor in a flash of green light. He paced, furious. He twirled his wand in his fingers. Damn these incompetent fools! What was he paying them for?

It didn't matter anyway. The Malfoy boy was going to die eventually, and that wasn't his objective, anyway. He had to focus, or he was going to ruin his plan. He couldn't end up like Voldemort—so focused on killing a single person that he forgot his purpose.

"Oh, my dear," called his wife from the doorway in a sensual voice. He looked up to see her in a slinky robe and found he could really care less. Her eyes swept over the dead body on the floor. Her nose curled up in disgust.

"Take care of that, would you?" she commanded the guard outside the room.

Once both the guard and body had gone, his wife pressed herself against him.

"Come to bed, my darling."

He pushed her away.

"Leave me alone, woman."

She glared at him, and stormed from the room. He collapsed in his chair, not really caring all that much. The fact that his plan was working so far, though it was good news . . . it just didn't seem to matter. What was the point in killing all those people, anyway?

Then he remembered that as grotesque as it might be, it was a necessary evil.

The pieces were set, the board was moving. He had a spy in every department. His man was perfectly placed to be the next Minister of Magic. He would show how corrupted the government was, even if he must corrupt it himself.

He would make the ministry fall, and set up a new one in its place. A perfect society, a utopia. Where everything was fair, where everyone was equal. And the government, he, would control it all.

And then he would expose himself to be the leader in the Revolution against the Ministry of Magic, against established governments everywhere, muggle and magical.

And then he would have the world.


	14. And the Truth Comes Out

_A/N:As you read this, please keep in mind that I am NOT a doctor, NOT a medical student, I am NOT an anatomical genius, NOR am I Gregory House, M.D (lol), so I really have NO idea about wounds or their long-term effects. AND that I am lazy, and don't care to look up what would happen if your lung got punctured, so forgive me for using creative license. But, if you ARE any of the above, (If you ARE Gregory House, M.D., then you're fucking awesome, because you're a fictional television character and somehow managed to post a review) and you would like to tell me what WOULD be any of the long-term effects of your lung getting punctured, or can tell me how what's happening to Scorpius is possible (Which probably only House would be able to explain) then I would be very, very happy to read your comments. And, if you DO know how what happened to Scorpius is possible, and know how to fix it, I'd be very happy to hear that too._

And I DON'T own Harry Potter.

Thanks,  
>~gfg<p>

Chapter Fourteen

And the Truth Comes Out

_"As you wish."  
>~The Princess Bride<em>

I waited outside of Scorpius's room for what felt like hours. Uncle Harry had stayed with me for a while, but eventually left, saying he had some paperwork to fill out. I don't know why I didn't just go home and come back later. I should have, it was the logical thing to do, but I couldn't. I didn't want to.

I knew he was fine, and he was with his mother, but almost losing him had shaken me. I understood now, how he felt after I got poisoned. It was a terrible feeling, coming that close to losing the one you loved. How had my parents dealt with this on a daily basis?

I now understood Scorpius's paranoia, his overprotectiveness, his desire to keep me safe. I couldn't blame him. I felt the same about him.

The door to Scorpius's room creaked opened, and his mother looked just as shocked as she had the first time to see me there. She was pale and her eyes were very red. She didn't say a word to me, and her heels clicked as she exited the ward. I heard a deep voice outside say a few words to her, and realized my guard must have arrived. I didn't really care. I just entered the room, and walked to Scorpius.

His face had been set in a grim expression, but when he saw me his eyes lit up.

I perched myself on the edge of his bed.

"What'd you do to your mum? She looked like she'd been crying."

His face turned hard again.

"My dad."

"What do you mean?"

"He's just being an ass, that's all," he said, huffing in frustration. "It's putting my mum under a lot of stress. And this, me getting hurt, it doesn't help. So she sort of snapped on me. Said I shouldn't be keeping secrets from her. Did-did you tell her about us?"

"I—" I started, looking down at my shoes. "Yes, yes. I coul—"

"Dammit, Rose, why would you do that?"

"She guessed!"

"Well why on earth didn't you lie to her?"

"It was . . . I couldn't. I just couldn't."

"You . . ." he fell into an angry silence, glaring at the bed sheet, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, Scorpius!" I said, my temper rising. "I'm sorry, alright! I couldn't lie to her, I tried, but it just didn't come out right."

Scorpius put his face in his hands.

"Dammit, Rose. You've fucked things up now. Thanks, thanks a lot."

I stood, my cheeks growing hot and angry tears pricking my eyes.

"What is _wrong_ with you? You knew we'd have to tell them eventually. You didn't even care! It was_ my_ family that was the problem! Why does it _matter?"_

He looked up at me, anger glaring in his grey eyes while the tears started slipping from my own. He opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

"You _ass!_ It was a mistake, an accident! It doesn't even really matter, and you're blaming me! My uncle knows about us, I don't know if my dad knows or not, and you knew, _you knew!_You knew it was going to come out eventually! We both knew what we were getting into when we started this mess! Not that I had much of a choice in it anyway—"

"You were _poisoned!"_shouted Scorpius angrily, swinging himself out of his bed to stand in front of me. "What did you expect me to do? Sit by while you died in front of me?"

"Speaking of death, _you just nearly died!_ And now you want to argue with me over something so bloody stupid! Don't you understand how that makes me _feel?"_

Tears were flowing thick and fast down my face now, and something snapped in Scorpius's eyes. And all of a sudden his arms were around me, and I was pushing him away, but his arms around me were strong, and he would not let me go. And instead of hitting him now I was clinging to him, he was holding my head to his chest, tears pouring down my face and onto his hospital robe.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in my ear, his voice shaking with suppressed emotion. "I'm sorry, Rosie, I'm sorry."

"I was so scared . . . I am scared . . . Scorpius I don't want to lose you . . ."

"I know, Rosie, I know. . ."

He held me, stroked my hair, kissed my head, while I poured all my fears and worries into his chest.

"Rosie," he whispered when I had finally fell silent. I raised my head to look at him. My cheek was warm and all my tears had evaporated. He slipped a warm finger under my chin and looked down at me.

I prepped myself to hear a long speech to make all my fears go away, and indeed, he opened his mouth, but closed it again almost immediately. Instead Scorpius leaned down and kissed me, ever so gently, though I could feel the passion, the fear that was haunting both of us. And then he let go, and sat back down on his bed, leaving me standing there to wonder the mysterious ways which men's brains worked.

* * *

><p>"I want to invite him for dinner."<p>

Ron looked up at his wife over his morning paper, whose front page headline screamed _"MINISTER TO RETIRE!" _Ron looked completely baffled. Hermione sighed in irritation.

"Scorpius Malfoy. I want to invite him for dinner."

Ron choked on a piece of bacon.

"Have—you—gone—_mad?"_said Ron when he had cleared his airway.

"No, I haven't," said Hermione, glaring at her husband. "And I would appreciate it if that wasn't your first reaction every time I suggest something you don't like."

"I'm not having him in my house," snarled Ron.

"_Our _house," corrected Hermione angrily.

"I'm not having it. Put it out of your head right now, I'm not going to allow it."

"I wasn't asking your permission," fired Hermione, standing up and bristling.

Ron scowled at Hermione, making her feel the need to defend her decision.

"It's the decent thing to do, Ron! He's saved our daughter's life, and Rose hasn't left the hospital since he got injured except to eat and sleep, and not even then sometimes. I don't care what you think, I want to invite him for dinner."

"No."

"Yes."

_"No."_

"Yes!

"NO!"

_"YES!"_

They had both stood up, their hands angrily planted on the table, glowering daggers at each other, when Hugo walked in and rolled his eyes, well used to his parent's bickering, and opened the fridge.

"Glad to see you two aren't that worried," said Hugo, taking out the milk and chugging it straight from the carton.

Hermione stomped over to her son angrily and ripped the milk from his grasp, spilling some of it on the floor.

"Hey!" said Hugo incredulously.

"Oh, get a glass!" said Hermione, shoving the milk back to him. Hugo scowled, and, instead of getting a glass, stuffed the milk back in the fridge, and stormed out of the room.

Hermione turned back to her husband.

"Now, Ron, you might be ignoring what's going on—"

"At your request!"

"Fine!" she shouted angrily, "Fine! At _my _request, I stopped you from killing the poor boy, or punching him, and stopped you from getting in a fight with your daughter which would probably tear our family apart!"

"Now that's a load of cockamamie bullshit! Rose is just being stupid and stubborn—"

"No, Ron, she's _not! _YOU'RE the one being stupid and stubborn! Don't you see what's going on here?"

"Of course I do! She's run off with the enemy's son just to piss me off! If I call her on it, she'll dump him and come back to us!"

"No she _won't _Ron," said Hermione in a pleading voice which caught Ron's attention. "No she won't."

Ron lowered his arms and stared at his wife, baffled again.

"Why wouldn't she? She's our daughter."

Hermione looked up at Ron, biting her lip to hide its' trembling, hoping he would understand.

"Because she loves him, Ron."

Ron's eyes went wide in horror.

_"What? _Please tell me you didn't just say what I think you said."

"I did, Ron. You have to understand. Please try to understand. She loves him; she loves him like I love you. And nothing we can say or do will make her leave him. I know our daughter, I know how she thinks, how she feels, and what she would do, which is exactly what I would do. And I would never leave your side, even if my parents hated you."

Ron's shoulders slumped, and he slumped back into his chair. Hermione's heart sank at the sight of her defeated-looking husband.

"No," he whispered in denial. "You're wrong."

Tears pricked her eyes, and she wished she could give Ron a different answer.

"No," she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and concealing her tears in his robe. "No I'm not."

"I'm not going to lose my only daughter to a Malfoy."

"We already have, Ron."

"No," said Ron, but his voice sounded so defeated it made Hermione want to run to the hospital herself, drag their daughter home, and forbid her from ever seeing Scorpius again. But she knew it wouldn't do any good at all. It would only tear their family apart, and she didn't think she could bear that burden, ever.

* * *

><p>"They want me to do <em>what?"<em>

"It's just dinner, Scorpius."

"No. No. Absolutely not. I'd rather get blown up again."

"Don't say that, please."

I sighed, pacing my hospital room. I was quickly growing bored and if the Healers didn't say I could leave soon, I was going to walk out no matter what they said. I felt perfectly fine. Aside from the occasional paralyzing spasm of pain in my chest, perfectly fine. Really.

"Why on earth would they invite me to dinner?"

"Because . . ." Rose hesitated, and I knew she was getting ready to drop a bomb. Er, not a literal bomb, or course. Metaphorically speaking. "Because I think they know about us. Hugo overheard them the other day, arguing about whether or not they should invite you to dinner. Mum was all for it, but dad wouldn't hear a word of it. Of course, they know I've come over to the hospital to visit you, but I hoped . . . I hoped they'd think we were just friends or something, break it to them slowly . . ."

"But?"

"But Hugo . . . Hugo overheard mum say that I . . . that I loved you, like she did dad, and I wouldn't leave your side no matter what they said."

I stood in shocked silence, a strange warmth flooding my heart and to the tips of my fingers. Rose was avoiding my eyes completely, her cheeks glowing bright red. I thought I had known the depth of her affection for me, but hearing it spoken out loud in that context, as someone else's words. Her mother's words. It was strange, but it felt. . . very good. Especially considering her reaction telling me. It meant it was true.

She glanced up at me very quickly, but did a double take and watched me closely.

"What?" I said softly.

She looked at me, reading my face.

"Nothing," she said, smiling. "You just looked . . . nothing, nevermind."

I shrugged, nonplussed.

"Okay," I said. I hugged myself.

"Are you cold?" she asked me.

"A little. I've been getting cold flashes since . . ."

Rose stood, took a thick blanket slung over the chair, and draped it over my shoulders. She stood in front of me, fussing over the arrangement of the blanket, avoiding my eyes.

"Thanks," I said, taking her hands, stopping her from fussing over me, watching her face carefully. She was still flushed from embarrassment, making her look very pretty. I pulled her to my chest, wrapping the blanket around us both. She pressed her hands to my chest and I rested my chin on her head.

"Hugo also said . . ."

She stopped, though, and still would not look at me. She wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her nose into my chest.

"What?" I prodded gently. "What else did Hugo say?"

"That . . . that dad said," and now her voice was quivering, her arms tightened around me, and she could barely choke out what she said next. "That he wasn't going to lose his only daughter to a Malfoy."

I pulled away from her, stung by the words. She looked up at me, searching my face. I didn't want her to see how deep those words cut, so I held her head to my chest again, where undoubtedly she heard the loud thumping of my heart.

"I—I'm sorry, Scorpius?"

It was more of a question, she didn't understand why those words hurt so much.

But then, she wasn't a Malfoy.

"Scorpius?"

I was a good person! Wasn't I? Why did it _matter _if my last name was Malfoy? Who was Ronald Weasley to judge me, anyway? All he'd ever done was hate my father, hate me, irrationally and unreasonably. Sure, my father had been a Death Eater, and his father, but I had never met my grandfather, he had been in Azkaban until the day he died! My grandmother had hardly spoken to him of me, and my dad pretended like he had never existed!

"Scorp . . . ?"

And yes, my dad had been convicted as a death eater, but Harry didn't believe he had anything to do with what was going on! For Merlin's sake I was _working_ for the Auror office! Didn't that mean _anything_ to the man? _Why _couldn't he just-?

"Scorpius!"

Rose had been shaking me as I zoned out. I looked down at her concerned face and barely registered it. I gently pried her away from me, my anger rising. Why, why, WHY did I have to be a Malfoy? Why did my father lack the power to say _'no!'_

I gripped the end of the bed frame tightly, my knuckles going white. I felt Rose's eyes on the back of my head.

"Why me, Rosie?" I asked, my voice not betraying the anger I felt.

"What?"

"Why _me?"_ I asked, my voice rising. "Why do I have to be a _Malfoy?_Why can't I just be someone with a last name that doesn't strike anger or pity in everyone? Why can't I be someone else? Someone who could love you without all these stupid complications, someone your parents could like, someone who wouldn't tear apart your family by loving you."

"I . . . you don't . . . it's not—"

"No!" I growled, whipping around to face her. "Don't say stuff to make me feel better about it that isn't true, that can never be true!"

"Scorpius, what—"

"It's not—bloody—fair!"

My anger, my temper, was fast consuming me. I ran to the wall, and punched it, hard as I could, but before my fist made full impact, pain flared in my chest, and I fell to the ground.

* * *

><p>"Scorpius!" I found myself shouting, rushing towards him, rolling him over as he clutched his chest, his eyes like ice from his pain.<p>

"Help!" I screamed, knowing my guard outside the room would hear. The door banged open, and in rushed my guard, who had seen this scene more than once over the past couple of days, and immediately called in a Healer.

People were rushing about me, saying things that I didn't care to listen to, pulling me off Scorpius, dragged him away from me to his bed, forcing a potion down his throat. All I saw was his eyes, so full of pain, never leaving my face, making me irrationally panicky, until his breathing calmed, and those ice silver eyes closed, and he passed out on the bed.

The Healers rushed about his unconscious body, waving their wands, checking who cares what, while I fell into the chair across the room, staring, horrorstruck, at Scorpius with tears in my eyes. I barely registered that there was only one healer left in the room. The good-looking one that had patched me up, who was the Healer in charge of the ward, and he was now looking at me stoically.

"Please," I begged him. "Please, can't you do anything to help him? Can't you stop this?"

"I'm trying everything I can, Miss Weasley, but you have to be patient."

"My patience is wearing thin!" I shouted, stomping my foot. "I can't bear seeing him like this! You have to do something! You have to help him!"

There was something like pity in his handsome face, and . . . something else.

"I will," he said, "I promise."

Then he left the room.

I staggered over to Scorpius, blinded by my tears, and sat down in the chair, pulling it up to his bed and plopping my head down in my arms by his side, and cried my heart out.

It wasn't long before I felt his hand in my hair, his soft shushing noises, his calm voice telling me it was okay. But it didn't help. It couldn't, not when I felt like this. Not when he was hurt, not when my whole world felt like it was collapsing around me. He sat up, grimacing from pain, and pulled me into his chest.

Half blinded as I was from emotion, I didn't bother protesting, didn't care to hide the tears, and didn't tell him to stop holding me and lay down because it was hurting him. I didn't care. I was such a selfish bitch.

"I'm s-sorry!" I stammered, none making much sense even to myself. "Sorry . . . sorry . . . I'm selfish. . . selfish bitch, sorry, sorry, sorry . . ."

I was so stressed, so scared, so _everything _that it exploded from me in such a display of selfishness that even Draco Malfoy would be ashamed of. Stupid tears. Stupid me. Stupid world. Why did that asshole have to hurt Scorpius in the first place?

"Stop," said Scorpius, his voice filled with emotion and pain as he pulled me away from him, holding me up by my shoulders. "Stop, stop blaming yourself. You're not being selfish, and you're not a bitch. You're the kindest, strongest, most intelligent woman I know. Don't blame yourself. This wasn't your fault. It's not your fault I am who I am, it's not your fault I got hurt."

I shook my head, feebly protesting his valid arguments.

"You're scared, Rosie, I know you're stressed because of that and all this other shit. I'm scared, too. I don't want this guy to hurt you, or hurt you through me. I don't want to hurt your family. I didn't want any of this to happen, except to be with you. But being with you has consequences, and I don't like them. They all end up in you getting hurt."

"Don't—Scorpius . . ."

He gave me a long, searching gaze, a look that scared me. He swallowed, and closed his eyes, once again pulling me into his chest, holding me tightly. And it seemed he needed that embrace as much as I did.

"Why are you here?" he whispered into my hair. "Why are you with me? Why have you stayed with me all this time, knowing what it would cost you? Why didn't you just tell me to sod off?"

"Because I love you," I sniffed. "Because I can't bear to be without you. Because I'm terrified of losing you. Because you're worth any amount of pain."

"I don't see how," he said numbly, making me feel the need to set him straight before he got all I-don't-deserve-you on me.

I pulled away from him, cupped his face in my hand, and looked him good and proper.

"Because you're the bravest, kindest, most selfless man I know, because of the way I feel when I'm with you. Because you're the only one who can understand what I'm talking about half the time, because you care about me, you're so very, very patient with me, and you hold me when I cry. Because of the way you're eyes light up when you see me, because making you smile is better than any feeling in the world. I'm with you, Scorpius, because being with you is a thousand times better than being without you."

* * *

><p>I looked at her in amazement, my heart racing, not knowing what on earth to say to that, but such a strong feeling lifted my heart and my head out of the deep place it had buried itself in, and was now basking in the sunlight.<p>

I opened my mouth, stunned and moved beyond words. She seemed to know this, and before you could say "cheesy" she was kissing me, like we had never kissed before, like it could change the world. I felt like we understood each other just a bit better, and our relationship with each other was just a bit clearer.

That kiss made me feel like a new man.

* * *

><p>We broke apart when I started to feel light-headed. He looked as dazed as I felt. We were staring at each other, our breathing labored.<p>

"I could go for another one of those," I voiced breathlessly, and Scorpius nodded enthusiastically, his eyes dancing, and leaned in for another passionate kiss that was slightly less incredible, but still amazing none the less. His hands became tangled in my hair, and we held each other tightly, him pulling me down on the bed. I kicked my shoes off and jumped on him. He had on only his thin hospital robe, but I had on way too many articles of clothing.

He seemed to agree, and could not get my shirt unbuttoned fast enough. I pulled open his robe to expose his chest, and ran my hands over his deliciously ripped body, while he gazed at me starry-eyed. I leaned down to kiss him again, and he moaned in pleasure or impatience, I couldn't tell, but when I broke away from him, his eyes stayed firmly fixed on my chest, so I think I'm going to have to go with the latter.

He rolled on top of me, placing one leg between mine. I gasped. It took all my self-restraint not to rip off the rest of his robes right then and there and . . . and . . .

I closed my eyes tightly, not wanting my brain to catch up with the place my imagination was taking me. He stopped, feeling me freeze up. Scorpius whispered my name, brushing my hair out of my face, kissing me tenderly.

I groaned, opening my eyes to meet his, filled with concern.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, "I'm taking advantage. I'll—I'll stop . . . i-if you want me to."

"No," I gasped. "No, you're not, it's wonderful. Don't stop. I just . . . just to second base, okay?"

He kissed me again, ever so softly.

"As you wish," he whispered. My heart skipped a beat.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _So . . . I hope that wasn't too graphic there. This chapter was a little fluffier or . . . soppier than I'm quite comfortable. I'm finding it a bit difficult to juggle the romance and the action/adventure/mystery aspect. I'll get it there eventually. I hope. . . . anyway._

_Please review! Thanks for reading!_

_~gfg_


	15. Always

Chapter Fifteen  
>Always<p>

_"What I really want to do with my life — what I want to do for a living — is I want to be with your daughter. I'm good at it."  
>~Say Anything<em>

Dinner with Rose's parents turned into dinner with the Potters too when they heard about it.

Fair enough. More witnesses.

And more people on my side. I knew Albus and Harry were on my side now, instead of just Rose.

There would be only one person at this dinner who didn't know about Rose and I. Well, I'm pretty sure he knew, but he was more than likely still in denial.

I was seriously considering the possibility of Ron hexing me, and I had hidden my wand up my sleeve. Defensive spells only. I was already in it deep enough, if I jinxed him back, then it might be pushing it over the edge.

I had gotten out of the hospital a couple of days ago. Rose had helped me return to my parent's house. I was really surprised how well her and my mother got along, though Rose seemed quite intimidated by her, and the house I lived in.

"I feel like a gold digger," she had whispered. I chuckled.

Rose and I apparated into her yard around 6:00. The youngest Weasley son's house was cozy looking, very neat and tidy. They had quite a beautiful garden and pretty green grass. I assumed this was all Rose's mother's doing. Ron really didn't seem the type to keep the house neat.

It was worth it, I thought, the whole thing. Just to see how she reacted to coming home. Her eyes closed, she smelled deeply, and smiled softly as she opened her eyes again. She looped her arm in mine, leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder, her eyes on the house. I placed my hand over hers.

"You ready?" I said. She tightened her grip on my arm.

"Only if you are," she said.

"Let's go."

Rose opened the door, and led me inside. The smell of cooking vegetables hit my nose, and the knot of tension in my stomach subsided somewhat. My mother wasn't much in to home-cooked meals. It was quite nice to look forward to one.

Albus, Hugo, Lily and James were all in the living room. They were all quite friendly. We'd all become at least somewhat familiar with each other. Any hostility that had originally been there had long since dissipated, and Albus had been, of course, my best friend since Rose and I started dating.

"Where is everyone?" said Rose as soon as everyone had settled down again.

"The mum's are in the kitchen," said Albus, "and the dads are out back."

"What . . . what kind of mood is my dad in?"

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, shooting me and Rose looks.

"He's . . ." said Lily. "He's a bit short, but I don't think he'll start hitting anyone . . . at least not right now."

Rose and I both exhaled in relief at the same time.

"Thank god," said Rose.

"I wouldn't completely lower your guard, though," said James. "You know how he is."

"Don't do anything stupid," said Albus.

"And I would _definitely_ keep the PDA to a _bare minimum_," said Hugo, smirking. Rose rolled her eyes.

"Don't worry, Scorpius," said Albus, patting me on the back, "We've all got your back."

Did fifty pounds just lift off my shoulders? I think it did.

"Thanks," I said, smiling, and looking around at the cousins. It felt really great to have friends.

"Let's go parade you around, Scorpius," said Rose, taking my hand, leading me into the kitchen, and introducing me to Hermione and Ginny.

* * *

><p>"It's so nice to finally meet you properly," said Hermione, smiling and shaking Scorpius's hand.<p>

"Likewise," said Scorpius, obviously turning on the charms. Though I'm not sure anyone else noticed that.

"He'll do alright," said Ginny, sizing him up. "Not a bad job, Rosie."

_"Ginny!"_Hermione chastised.

"What?" said Ginny, "it's a compliment!"

"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley," said Scorpius, smiling dazzlingly at my mother and aunt. They both giggled, whether at his charm, his use of the term 'Mrs. Weasley', or the fact that he was so handsome, I wasn't sure. It was probably a combination. Scorpius's cheeks turned a faint pink.

"Oh, please," said my mum, also turning pink, "call me Hermione. Mrs. Weasley is my mother-in-law."

"Okay . . . Hermione."

The older females started giggling again, and by the way that they were blushing and fanning their faces, I'd say it had nothing to do with being called 'Mrs. Weasley' and everything to do with my charming boyfriend. I rolled my eyes and shoved said boyfriend playfully. He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling.

"Second nature," he mouthed. I rolled my eyes again.

"Are dad and Uncle Harry out back?"

"Yes, dear," said my mum, still fanning herself while she stood up to check on the food.

"I'd bring your cousins with you," said Ginny wisely, "my idiot brother can be a bit unpredictable sometimes. Helps to have witnesses."

* * *

><p>Seems Ginny and I were on the same page.<p>

"You're such a charmer," said Rose as soon as we were alone in the hallway. I shrugged nonchalantly

"What can I say? I'm a handsome smooth talker, they can't help but fall in love with me," I said, grinning. Rose punched my arm, and I gripped it, as if mortally wounded. She rolled her eyes and I couldn't keep the grin off my face.

I took her hand, and raised it to my lips. She stopped in her tracks and seemed rather breathless.

"It doesn't hurt that I'm madly in love with you," I whispered.

Rose blushed beautifully at my words.

"Sorry," I said, deciding I better lighten the mood, "had a bit left over."

She grinned, still blushing, and pushed me towards the living room, where we found the cousins had already trickled outside anyway. It took a hell of a lot of self-restraint not to pull her into the empty room and start snogging her right then and there.

Rose led me out on the back porch then, stopping my fantasies in their tracks, where we found all the Weasley/Potter cousins, and the fathers of said cousins, as well as Teddy Lupin, who, I should have known by then, pretty much_ was _a Potter. Harry came over and shook my hand. I was slightly surprised when he leaned in.

"We're going to interrogate Jenkins tomorrow, about the bomb."

"You haven't done it yet?"

"I wanted you to be there," said Harry, releasing my hand. "Thought it'd be a good observational lesson for you. Hard to do while you were in the hospital."

I saw Ron shoot the group of us a look, and wondered if Harry and Ron had made up yet, but, rather wisely, I didn't bring it up.

"Well, all better now," I said. "Ready to start anytime you are."

Harry nodded, and took me over to Teddy.

"Have you met my godson, Teddy Lupin?"

"No," I answered, shaking hands with Teddy.

"Nice to meet you," said Teddy, sizing me up as well. I wondered if I could trust him like I could the rest of the cousins. He didn't seem to trust me, so I'd guess that was a not. Teddy turned away from me and pointedly struck up a conversation with Ron.

In the short time it took for dinner to be ready Rose and I chatted with her cousins, with me staying as far away from Ron as possible.

It was an arrangement that worked out quite well for us both.

I helped Rose and Hugo set the table, mainly because it meant there was a wall between me and Ron. Rose would occasionally brush up against me, a happy smile on her face. I admit, it was hard to take my eyes off her and more than once I misplaced silverware. It gave me a thrill every time I could brush my hand on her lower back.

I was sure that Hermione was more than aware of these activities, but I didn't really think she cared all that much. In fact, I caught her quite often watching us with a small smile.

We all sat down to dinner. Everything was delicious. It was like my tongue threw a party for my mouth. Hermione was quite a good cook.

My girlfriend's mother could cook . . . _score!,_Was that delicious Christmas dinners I sensed in my future? Yes, I think it was . . . Right.

I kept my answers simple and polite to any questions directed my way. I was always quite good at making polite small talk . . . probably all those damn parties my father insisted on having my whole life, and having to make nice with people I really hated.

But it wasn't like that at the Weasley's. Conversation flowed more naturally, there were more laughs, real laughs, not people who smiled through their teeth. It felt like family. I'd never experienced anything like this before. The closest I've ever come to it is when my father, mother, and I actually have meals together, which is rarer than you'd think, and even then conversation was forced and words were chosen very carefully.

When dinner was finished, most everyone moved into the living room but Hermione, Ginny and Lily, who stayed to clean up. I volunteered to help them, because I felt like it would be rude not to, and because I actually_wanted _to help, but the three of them shot me down.

"You'll only get in the way," said Lily bluntly. Nevertheless I brought them the plates, and it seemed like a fair compromise, because it looked like I'd won them over completely. They pushed me into the living room with everyone else.

Rose had saved me a seat, and I sat down next to her. She smiled at me, and leaned her knee into my own. I subtly linked my pinky in hers for a moment, and she smiled at me before letting go.

Teddy and James were continuing their conversation from the table, which was discussing the finer points of Quidditch. Albus and Hugo had started to debate about their favorite muggle comic books. Ron was unusually quiet. I thought he would have joined in on the Quidditch discussion, but instead he had had his eyes fixed on me, and only looked away when I caught him. I didn't quite know what to make of this.

"So, Scorpius," said Hermione. "How's your healing going?"

I cleared my throat.

"Good. The Healers say that the attacks will decrease as long as I keep taking the potions and doing physical therapy."

"Well, that's good then."

"But he says they won't ever truly go away," I said. Hermione looked sad. Harry sighed.

"Cost of being an Auror," he said. "I'm sorry it happened so early in your career."

"Me, too," I said.

I would have to deal with the attacks the rest of my life. I had to be careful not to overstretch my chest and not to breathe too heavily or get caught in the cold. I was crippled. Well, no, crippled wasn't the right word. I would be able to live a relatively normal life. But still, I was limited.

I was still injured.

An hour passed in pleasant chatter before Ginny said she had to get going, she had an article to write for the paper tomorrow and she hadn't even started.

"Well," said Harry. "I guess that's my cue to leave as well. You coming, kids?"

The Potter children nodded their assent and started to get ready to leave. I would have left, as well, but Rose placed a hand on my knee.

"Stay," she whispered.

"Okay," I said back quietly, slightly confused. The sooner I get out of here, the better. And seeing as how I had yet to get into a fight with Ron, then it was better I leave _now. _But if Rose wanted me to stay for whatever reason, I guess I could stay.

"Ron, Scorpius, tomorrow at two," said Harry.

"Got it," I said, while Ron nodded.

They left. We got up to see them off, and before we got back to the living room, Ron stopped me.

"A word, please, if you don't mind," he said. I gulped, and nodded. Here it comes. Rose gave me a worried look, and Ron led me into the garden.

He was quiet for a few moments, leaning against the white picket fence and watching a garden gnome tug a worm out of the ground. I waited patiently, but he didn't say anything. The longer the awkward silence went on the more nervous I became.

"You have a lovely home," I said. Ron frowned.

"Thank you," he answered tersely. He looked at me. His expression was cold, calculating, slightly hostile, sizing me up.

"Alright," he said, sighing. "Let's skip the small talk and get straight to the point. I don't like you. You know I don't like you. I don't like your father. I don't trust you. I think you know that. But you've saved Rose's life, and my wife tells me I'm being stupid by not trusting you and arguing with Harry about you. He seems to trust you, and Hermione likes you. And my daughter . . ."

He scowled, looking as though he had just swallowed a lemon.

"Well, my daughter seems a little too fond of you for my liking," he said. I nodded, a little intimidated by his hard expression. "So you tell me now, can I trust you?"

"I'm on your side," I said, choosing my words carefully. "I would _like_for you to trust me, but I know I might as well be asking for the moon."

He snorted at my frankness.

"You _can_trust me though, Mr. Weasley. I hope you know that."

"What are your intentions with my daughter?" he said, rather abruptly.

"Oh," I said, not really surprised with the question, but he had kind of caught me unawares. This was by far the most important question I knew he was going to ask me. It was doubly important I chose my words with care. One slip up here, and it could jeopardize my entire relationship with Rose. One wrong word, and we could be sneaking around behind her parent's backs instead of having their permission. Or rather, their tolerance.

Even though the last thing I wanted to do was discuss my feelings about Rose with her father, it was necessary. I had to be honest, because being honest was my best argument. Not _too_honest, obviously, because if I even hinted at 'I want to snog the hell out of her and I think she's the hottest creature to walk this earth. And, quite honestly, I can't wait to shag her,' then there it goes. Down the toilet. Any chance of any of that happening.

And any of the . . . cleaner . . . things I wanted to do with her either, like spend the rest of my life with her, marry her, grow old with her, have children with her . . . all that, down the drain. If I'm not incredibly careful.

"I . . . care about her. I care about her a lot. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to her. I'm . . . she's not just any girl, Mr. Weasley. I'm not just in this to . . . to have a girlfriend or whatever. If I was, I definitely wouldn't have picked Rose because of . . . well, the animosity between our families. That's not what this is about. I'm serious about her. We're both serious about each other."

Ron was quiet for a long time, scrutinizing my face. Probably looking for any hint of a lie. But he won't find any. I waited on tenterhooks for him to say something . . . anything.

"Alright," he said after a very long time. But I can tell whatever he's going to say is going to be a test, so I don't lower my guard. "Alright, fine. But I warn you, I, too, was a teenage boy once. I know what goes on in a teenage boy's head. Any hint of that, _any_ hint of that kind of thing . . . _at all_. . . and I swear to Merlin I won't have any problem at all spending some time in Azkaban."

I gulped.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid," I said nervously. "I'm not going to jeopardize her future. I care about her too much. And I want this to work."

At last he nodded, though it seemed rather reluctant.

Without another word, he turned on his heal and headed back into the house, signifying the end of this conversation. For now.

* * *

><p>"Alright, Jenkins, your boss has blown up the Leaky Cauldron. Know anything about it?"<p>

Harry slapped the notebook down on the table, and pulled out a chair. Ron did the same thing, except he turned the chair around to sit backwards, rolling his wand threatening between his fingers. I stood in a corner, trying to fade into the wall, just there for observation at Harry's request . . . but it was really more at his defense. Ron hadn't wanted me there at all.

Jenkins looked up at Harry, frowning. He did not look much worse for the wear. In fact, he looked a lot healthier than when I—Rose_ and_I—had first caught him. The Aurors had kept him in a small room, though even he couldn't say it wasn't comfortable. If they had only been keeping him for a short time, I was positive it wouldn't be so comfortable. But they were potentially keeping him here for years or months.

No one could think what else to do with him. They couldn't have let him go, after all. And they had to keep him under constant supervision and close.

"Did you say he _blew up_the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Yup," said Ron. "And we also asked if you knew anything about it."

"I haven't been privy to his plans for months," sniffed Jenkins. Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks to you."

"Tell us what you know!" snapped Ron.

Ah, the old good-cop, bad-cop routine . . . this observation thing was easier than I thought.

"Alright," said Jenkins, heaving a fake sigh, "but you already know my information is out of date."

"Let's get to the info," said Harry, taking out a Quick-Quotes quill and placing it on the open notebook, where it hovered, ready to write. "Tell us about the bomb. Did you know it was going to happen?"

"Well, it was just a rough idea when he mentioned it. He's obviously changed his plans by now, like I said. If he's starting to blow up buildings then he's decided to kick things up a notch."

"Wait . . ." said Ron. "Did you say _starting?"_

"He doesn't do things halfway. He'll want to make sure you know it's not an isolated incident."

"So you mean there will be _more?" _said Ron, horror-struck.

"Without a doubt."

"Do you know where he'll strike next?"

"No idea," shrugged Jenkins.

The whole room seemed to sag from disappointment. Jenkins raised his eyebrows.

"It was long shot that I even knew about the explosions, and you're hoping I'll know when the next one will go off?"

"Well . . . we had to ask."

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" asked Ron hopefully.

Jenkins shook his head, but hesitated.

"What?" said Harry eagerly. "Do you know something else?"

"I—" started Jenkins. "I lied."

"About the explosion?" said Harry.

"No, I told you everything I know about that. I lied when I said . . . when I said I didn't know who he is."

My mouth dropped half an inch.

"Tell us," demanded Ron.

"I know his name . . . that's it. He had . . . I accidently saw his mail one day. It—"

"Get to the bloody name!" said Ron.

"Moriarty," said Jenkins. "James Moriarty."

There was silence. That name rang a bell . . .

"Are you –" said Harry, clearly suppressing a grin. "Are you sure that's his real name?"

"No, but I'm pretty positive."

"So you're saying," said Harry, "that the guy we're after has the same name as Sherlock Holmes' archenemy."

"Who's Sherlock Holmes?" asked Ron.

"Ask your wife," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "Next you're gonna tell us he's a professor."

"Hold on," I said, the name finally taking a place. Harry and Ron turned around to look at me. "I know that name."

"Yeah, in Sherlock Holmes," said Harry.

"I've never read Sherlock Holmes," I said back, "but I know where I've heard that name before."

"Well don't leave us in suspense," said Jenkins. Ron shot him a look.

"He taught Arithmancy at Hogwarts."

"Oh, bloody wonderful," said Harry. "Then he_ is_a Professor."

"Was," I said. "He quit after the only year I took it. Third."

"Why?"

"Some bullshit about wanting to 'explore the world.' Nobody believed it. We all thought he got fired . . . he was an asshole of a teacher."

"No surprises there," snorted Ron.

"But it wasn't because he got fired," said Harry, clearly thinking hard. "It was because he wanted to get a start on his plans."

"Most likely," said Ron.

Harry sighed and ran a hand though his hair.

"Alright," he said with finality, looking back at Jenkins. "Wilson will come and take you back to your room."

"You know where to find me," he said bitterly.

* * *

><p>Harry brought me in his office afterwards and had me shut the door, then started without preamble.<p>

"I want to give you a raise," he said.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"But I don't even really work here. I'm just learning."

"Scorpius, please, don't hand me that line. You've done more than enough to help us, and it doesn't seem right for me to keep paying you minimum wage."

"Well, when you put it that way—"

"C'mon, Scorpius, don't make this harder than it needs to be. Take the raise. And I want to increase your training too. Now that summer's here you'll have more time for it. I know it's not conventional, but . . ."

He looked suddenly strained again, and his eyes wandered over the many items tacked to his walls.

"Things are getting serious, Scorpius," he said anxiously, running a hand through his hair. "This guy . . . Moriarty . . . if he's going to attack another target . . . look, I don't want you to go out with Rose like that again. Stay away from public areas. Her house, your house, you can even come to my house if you want, wherever . . . I just don't want either of you to get hurt again. We need you, Scorpius. We can't afford for you to get injured."

* * *

><p>I did as Harry suggested, but we only met at her house when Ron wasn't there. And I didn't like bringing her to my house. Every time I did she always seemed so uncomfortable. At least until I brought her to the library and had Blinky bring us a cup of hot chocolate.<p>

First time in my life, I think, when I thought of being rich . . . well, rich parents, anyway . . . as an annoyance rather than an asset.

It was okay, though, really, because being at Rose's house was better than being at mine. For some reason going to Rose's house felt like . . . coming home.

Maybe it was because she was there. Maybe it was because her family (aside from Ron, who, though tolerable towards me, still clearly did not like me) was just so welcoming and nice. I felt like part of the family whenever I went there.

I think I made a better Weasley than I did a Malfoy. My dad would kill me if he knew I thought such things, but, seeing as how I didn't think he honestly cared what I did one way or another, or about me at all, I didn't really give a shit what he thought.

It was really quite nice, though. After the explosion, it was a relief to have some quiet, happy time with Rose. I needed it. Sitting in the library in Malfoy Manor, pretending to read but really watching Rose read; hanging out with her family. It was exactly what I needed to recuperate.

Not to say there was a lack of any action.

There were two more explosions, bringing down a muggle movie theater and Eeylop's Owl Emporium. The Aurors were buzzing around like bees. Any leads we had led to dead ends. There had been nobody to apprehend. The papers downplayed the whole thing. The ministry could hardly afford anybody to panic.

Meanwhile the minister had retired, and that was enough of a hullabaloo as it was. The whole ministry was a mess. Then the new minister was appointed.

And he was an_ ass._

He did not listen to anyone, thought he was the greatest thing to walk the earth, and shoved his agenda down our throats. But he was so slippery about it, that no one could outright cry for his resignation. He was the worst kind of bully—the kind that seemed like a perfectly nice guy whenever there was a camera around. Everything was 'for the good of the public.' He was determined to get the ministry 'back on track.'

And the first thing he did was to express his displeasure in the way the Auror office was run.

He could hardly fire Harry Potter, as we all knew he wanted to. Harry carried too much influence in the ministry and with the public for the minister to fire him. If he did, then the whole wizarding community would demand he resign and put Harry back in charge. I was surprised they weren't already.

"Look at it from an outsider's perspective," said Ginny one day during tea, "The papers aren't printing anything bad he's doing. In fact, they're making him out to be some sort of savior or something . . . like he's the greatest thing to walk the earth since Merlin. The general public doesn't see what goes on on the inside, they only see what the papers tell them. The only thing he could do to clue everyone in that something's up would be to fire Harry, which of course he won't do for that very reason."

"I don't trust him," I said.

"Harry doesn't either."

"You don't think he could be . . ." but Rose drifted off, biting her lip.

"What?" I prodded. Ginny looked at her curiously.

She looked between us nervously.

"I dunno . . . it just seems kinda funny, doesn't it? The old minister . . ."

"Kingsley?" offered Ginny. I had never personally met the old minister, Kingsley. But from what I understood he was an old friend of the Weasleys and Potters. And he, too, was a war hero.

"Yes, Kingsley. He retires right when buildings are getting blown sky-high and people are dying . . . something just doesn't seem right."

"What are you suggesting?" I said. Rose didn't often put in her two cents about everything, but she was smart enough to figure stuff out that I often didn't see, so when she did decide to say something, then I knew I should probably listen.

"Has anyone actually_ heard_from Kingsley?"

Ginny's brows furrowed together.

"Well,_ we_haven't heard anything from him, but neither of us are big letter-writers. He'll come round to dinner every once in a while, when it's the old crowd. But if nobody's heard from him, I wouldn't be all that surprised. He went on vacation, right? To the Bahamas or some such place. He's probably enjoying some peace and quiet."

Rose lowered her eyes to her tea, and I knew she wasn't convinced. I wasn't either, really. Something _did_seem a bit funny about how Kingsley just disappeared off the map and retired in the middle of action like this.

"You don't think that . . ." I started, following her train of thought. Rose looked at me, and I knew we were thinking the same thing.

"It would fit, wouldn't it?"

"What?" said Ginny, sitting up eagerly, "what would fit?"

"That the new minister's working for Moriarty," we both answered at the same time. Ginny went pale, and sat back in her chair, swirling her coffee.

"Just like Thicknesse," she whispered.

"Who?"

"He was Voldemort's puppet minister, when he took over the ministry."

"But that kind of thing can't be happening now, could it?" said Rose anxiously. "I mean, we would know if the ministry fell, right?"

But would we? Moriarty seemed so slippery, and what with this mind-control machine, he could have us drooling at his feet and we would think it was our own free will. We could be . . .

"Ignoring it," I whispered in horror. The girls looked at me.

"What?"

"He could have us intentionally ignoring it . . . but that would mean . . . oh god I hope I'm wrong . . ."

"Scorpius, where are you going?"

I had jumped up, my tea sitting forgotten on the table, my jacket in my hand, and was heading towards the front door. The girls looked at me in astonishment.

"I have to go see Harry. If I'm right . . . if you're right, Rose, then this could be worse than we thought."

"What do you mean?" she said, standing up as well and following me to the door.

"I . . . I can't tell you, Rose."

"One of those damn Auror confidentiality things," said Ginny, snorting. "They can pick our brains all they like but they can't tell us anything that's going on."

"Well you know what they say," I said, grinning, "behind every apparently smart man is a genius woman who comes up with all the real answers."

"Damn straight," said Ginny, while Rose said, frowning, "I don't think that's how that goes."

I laughed. Rose looked up at me anxiously, then steadied herself on my arm to stand on tiptoe and kiss me on the cheek.

"Be careful, okay?"

I tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear, touched her face. She'd made a point of going through this ritual every time we parted since I was released from the hospital. I thought it might have something to do with my near-death experience. I couldn't blame her. I was as scared of losing her as she was of losing me. So I would respond every time . . .

"Always."


End file.
